


Hail to the Chief

by Bookshido



Series: The District of Colombia [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, I'm Sorry, Multi, So much death, The Winchester Administration, This Administration Would be Better than the real American Government, Whoops; looks like the Author added all of her writer friends to the story, Whoops; looks like the Author added herself to the story, this author has so much blood on her hands, you all will hate me once i get to the final part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookshido/pseuds/Bookshido
Summary: President Samuel Winchester is the 44th President of the United States. He is the youngest president to ever take office at the young age of thirty seven. Congress is actually working with him. His brother is the Secretary of Defense, a friend at the head of the Secret Service. Everything is looking great for President Winchester. Except that something is wrong. His staff members are being picked off, one by one.Can a whirlwind romance withstand the approaching storm?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for looking over my story! Please let me know what you think in a comment below and enjoy! :) I'd love to hear what you are thinking and any conspiracy theories you may have about what's going on!

“It is my great honor and privilege to introduce the Chief Justice of the United States, Mr. Chuck Shurley!”

“Are you prepared to take the oath, Senator?”

“I am.”

“I, Samuel Winchester, do solemnly swear.”

“I, Samuel Winchester, do solemnly swear.”

“That I will execute the office of President of the United States faithfully.”

“That I will execute the office of President of the United States faithfully.”

“And will, to the best of my ability.”

“And will, to the best of my ability.”

“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“So help you, God?”

“So help me, God.”

“Congratulations, Mr. President.”

* * *

 

Sam Winchester, the 44th president of the United States, collapsed into the nearest chair in the White House he could find, exhausted and out of breath from the Inauguration speech and the Inaugural Parade. The walk from the Capitol Building to the White House was much longer than he thought it would be. And the press… Oh god. The press was so much worse than it had been on the campaign trail.

Dean slipped into after him, a huge smile on his face and waving off the reporters.

“They’re like vultures,” Dean muttered, adjusting his dress uniform and striding over to Sam, the grin still firmly in place and arms open wide.

When Sam didn’t rise to hug him, Dean’s smile deflated and his arms dropped to his side.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly. “You did it. You finally did it.”

“I know,” Sam sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face in his hands. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll all work out,” Dean promised, heading for the door and patting Sam’s shoulder as he went. “I mean, it’s the first day. Probably it’s just jitters. Remember your first day at Stanford?’

Sam nodded, a small smile appearing as he leaned back in his seat.

“Just remember,” Dean said before heading out the door. “Tomorrow, you have to face the Cabinet.”

Sam’s head shot up in shock and remembrance, the door clicking shut as his brother headed to leave the White House.

* * *

_One month later…_

Tesla Allen, President Winchester’s Chief of Staff strode purposefully through the White House, navigating the hall that she had worked her way through throughout all of President Singer’s two terms. A young woman in a simple business casual jacket and pencil skirt was waiting outside with a notebook clenched in her arms.

“Miss Allen?” the girl asked, pushing her glasses a little higher on her nose.

“Yes?” Tesla asked, confused.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” the girl said nervously. “The general and the president are arguing. Something about staffing.”

Tesla gazed at the girl for a second and then sighed angrily. “Thank you,” she said, knocking on the door and pushing it open.

“Come in,” Sam said, gesturing for her to come further in before resuming his conversation with his brother. “Dean, I don’t see why we have to replace all of the bodyguards, Clif was doing just fine-”

“But today, I received word from Director Krake that he has just defected to Russia,” General Winchester snapped. “Don’t you find that a bit odd?”

The one man in a plain black suit with an earpiece in was looking extremely awkward now and Tesla felt a pang of sympathy for the poor man. Almost eight years ago, she had stood in almost that exact same spot as General Winchester’s predecessor, Secretary Mills had explained why the previous Chief of Staff was being replaced. At least this president had the courtesy to not cuss like a sailor about his new employee.

“Yes, of course, but you don’t replace him with a green FBI agent,” Sam snapped, making the guard stiffen.

“Jimmy here is probably one of the best men to guard you in the entire FBI,” the general snapped, making the agent puff his chest out with pride. “Strong, quick witted, handy with a gun-”

“Yes, yes, those are important,” Sam said with an eye roll, looking like he was sick of talking about this. “But can he protect me? That is the point of this. I mean, I’m taller than him and it looks like he would blow away if the wind hit him just right.”

“You have no respect,” General Winchester muttered, glaring at his brother. “But Jimmy’s your new bodyguard, and that’s the end of it.”

The general stormed out of the room and the girl at the door walked to meet him, handing him a manilla envelope as the door slammed shut.

President Winchester groaned and started massaging his temples, not greeting Tesla as he usually did.

“Mr. President?” she asked, approaching and slowly setting a news article on his desk.

“What’s this?” Sam asked, picking it up and reading the article. “‘The Not-So Family Man: Our New President and What it Means for the Middle Class’. What’s this got to do with anything?”

“That was published in the Times this morning,” Tesla explained. “It basically said that because you don’t have a family, you can’t understand what the average American is going through.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he scanned the article, biting back an expletive.

“That’s utter shit,” he finally said, finishing the column and tossing the paper back on the desk.

“I know,” Tesla said sympathetically. “But it is affecting your image. People don’t like seeing someone who isn’t settled down managing the country. They don’t think you’re responsible enough.”

“They elected me,” Sam said, pointing at himself, a typical bitch-face showing itself. “The American people chose me for their highest office.”

“Sir, I understand that,” Tesla said, her patience starting to dissolve. “But I believe that it is cause for a change in your image.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asked, his heart sinking.

“I propose that you rejoin the dating game,” Tesla said, sighing irritable when she heard his groan. "Don’t be like that. It’ll say to the public that you want to settle down, but that you’re picky.”

“But I don’t want to date anyone right now,” Sam pointed out, knowing that he was lying. "If anything, they’d be in danger when they’re dating me.”

“Sam,” Tesla said softly, her voice becoming sympathetic. "You have to be able to move on from Jess. What happened wasn’t your fault, he was a madman-”

“But she was killed,” Sam yelled, slamming his fist on the desk and breathing heavily. "She killed and I was going to- I was going to…”

His anger suddenly drained out of him and he sank back into his chair, obviously holding back tears.

“I just want to get away,” Sam said softly, leaning back in his swivel chair and spinning it around to look out of the big curved windows.

Tesla sighed deeply. “Mr. President, I’m sure you understand that we cannot fit a vacation in until next month.”

Sam spun back around, a fire in his eyes. “I need to get away from this,” he demanded. “I need some time to be able to relax and actually be able to think about something without the press getting on my case about it.”

“Mr. President-” Tesla began, but Sam cut her off with a hand wave.

“I want Air Force One ready to go in two hours,” he ordered, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’m going back to Palo Alto. Tonight.”

Jimmy got up, hurrying to follow his ward and narrowly slipped into the hall before him. Sam slammed the door of the Oval Office and made Tesla jump from the sound.  She only had a few seconds of peace before her phone went off.

Not even looking at the ID, she answered, her lips pursed and angry.

"Were you able to convince him?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.

"I think so,” Tesla said, the angry look turning to one of cool calculation.

“Is he going to be in position for the bait?”

“No,” Tesla said irritably, glaring towards the door he had slammed. “He just told me to get Air Force One ready.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, I wish I was,” she said, glancing at one of the security cameras that she knew was watching and listening to her every word. “He’s heading to Palo Alto.”

“Shit.”

“I know,” she said, standing up and then sitting down again. “Is everything going to work out?”

“We don’t have anyone in place there. Don’t you know what this means, Miss Allen?”

“No, I don’t,” she said, pulling the phone away from her ear nervously.

“It means that everything we’ve ever worked for is going to shit!” the man yelled into the phone. “If he is ready to re-enter the dating world, he is going to be looking for someone! And if he finds someone who is not someone that we chose, then everything is ruined!”

“You act like I don’t know this,” she said with a scowl. “Look, I’ll try to stop him, but you don’t know the President like I do; he’s stubborn as hell.”

“You will come through, Miss Allen.”

“Yes, I know what it means,” she said, trying to put on a fake smile for the camera.

“I look forward to hearing of your success.”

_Click._

* * *

Tesla rose, gathering her papers and exiting the Oval Office, making her way to what was the Living Room, but now was President Winchester’s bedroom. Each footstep felt like her heartbeat and she thought about what she had to do.

“Sir?” she asked, knocking on the partially open door.

“Miss Allen,” he greeted, smiling widely. “Is the jet ready?”

“Not yet, sir,” she said, swallowing the guilt about what she was about to do. “Mr. President, something has come up.”

“Yes?” he asked, continuing to pack.

“Your mother has taken ill,” she blurted out, regretting that instantly.

“What?” he exclaimed, spinning around to face her, shock all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother is very sick,” Tesla continued, trying to continue the lie. “She was rushed to the hospital this morning.”

“Then I have to go, now,” Sam said, his voice frantic and starting to pack even faster.

“No, you can’t!” Tesla yelped, making him jump and stare at her.

“What do you mean, Miss Allen?” he asked, his voice darkly.

“She… she requested that you stay here,” Tesla said, seeming to shrink under his intense gaze.

“She has requested for me to stay here,” Sam asked, seeming suspicious.

“Something about how the people need you,” she lied.

“I’m still going,” Sam said sternly, turning his back to her and continuing to pack. “Miss Allen, I will see you in a few days. Have a good evening.”

Choking back a sob, Tesla nodded and exited the room, using her phone to call the private airfield.

“Gadreel? Hey, it’s Tesla, I need you to ready Air Force One,” she said, exiting the hallway. “Yeah, the president’s going home.”

* * *

As soon as she left, Sam pulled out his phone and dialled Dean.

“Hey, Sam, what’s up?” Dean asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Uh, not much,” Sam said, looking over his suitcase. “But Tesla just told me that Mom’s in the hospital. You’d better get packing.”

“What?” the shock was evident in Dean’s voice.

“Yeah, apparently, she was admitted this morning,” Sam said, shouldering the phone as he carried the suitcase out of the bedroom.

“How is that possible?” Dean asked, his voice becoming suspicious. “I talked to her this morning.”

Sam froze in his tracks, being bumped into from behind by Jimmy. “What did you say?” he asked his brother.

“I said that I talked to Mom this morning,” Dean said. “She sounded fine.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, starting to walk again.

“Positive.”

“Alright… I’m about to head to the airport, I’ll be in Palo Alto tomorrow.”

“Alright, tell Mom I love her.”

“I will. See you soon, Dean.”

“See ya.”

_Click._

* * *

“Now… where were we,” a female voice purred as Dean slid the phone back onto his desk.

Dean leaned forward and kissed the girl from earlier, her hair falling out of it’s bun into a long mess of brown hair as he slid his hand behind her neck.

“Rose, you’re going to be the death of me,” Dean whispered when the kiss broke, going in for another passionate kiss.

* * *

“Miss Allen, you have failed me again.”

“Sir, please, don’t,” she pleaded, pacing the living room of her townhome. “Think of President Singer. You were his best friend, this will ruin his reputation for all of history now that he is dead.”

“You think we were friends? Hah. He was just a tool to get me where I wanted. And so were you. But now the tool has become rusty. Things are slipping through.”

A siren began to wail outside her window and Tesla turned to look out the thinly curtained window in shock.

“Miss Allen, I’d prepare yourself for handcuffs. I’d recommend Vaseline. Prevents a rash.”

_Click._

The phone dropped from her hand and to the floor as a banging was heard on her door.

* * *

**BREAKING NEWS: CHIEF OF STAFF ARRESTED IN REDACTION SCANDAL**

_President Winchester’s Chief of Staff, Tesla Allen was taken into custody this evening following an anonymous tip and box containing evidence that she had been involved in a large cover up during the Singer administration that included the former Secretary of Defense John Winchester and President Robert Singer himself. As both men died within the last year, only Miss Allen will be tried on charges of high treason and conspiring against the government._

_It is unclear is she was involved in any other cover ups during what we have seen of the Winchester presidency, but if anything is to be noticed by the sudden departure of the president to his hometown, one begins to wonder if there are more secrets to unearth._


	2. Chapter 2

“Mr. President!” a male voice bellowed as the door to Air Force One opened and Sam ducked to exit the plane. 

He straightened, buttoning the bottom button on his suit jacket and smoothed it down, finally raising his head to face the crowd.  
  
At the sight of his face, there was a flurry of applause and the loud snaps of cameras going off. Avoiding to look directly at the lights, Sam looked out over the crowd, waving and smiling for the crowd.  
  
God, the feeling would never get old.

Sam stayed put for only a moment longer before starting to head down the steps, Jimmy right on his heels and Gadreel pulling up the rear. He saluted the Marines at the bottom of the steps and continued to walk along the separated walkway. Gadreel broke away to talk business with the airport personnel and Sam headed to the Beast, anxious to get home. 

“Sam!” Mary Winchester cheered, running out of the house and hugging Sam almost before the Beast was able to pull away from the sidewalk.

A collective sigh went up from all of the reporters that were behind the Secret Service boundary and cameras started snapping when they stepped away from each other.

“Let’s get inside,” Sam whispered before he kissed his mother on the cheek and heading into his childhood home.

Sam’s childhood home was a beautiful yellow and white two story ranch home, with a huge wrap around porch and was surrounded by orange trees. It was the most perfect place that Sam could ever think about growing up in.

Sam followed his mother up the steps two at a time and chuckled when Jimmy tried to basically vault up the steps. They entered the house and the screen door slammed shut behind Jimmy. 

* * *

“I was so sorry to hear about Miss Allen,” Mary said sympathetically, handing Sam the mug of coffee as they became comfortable in the kitchen. “It must have been such a shock.” **  
**

“Miss Allen?” Sam asked, confused now, setting the mug on the table. “What happened to Miss Allen?”

“You haven’t heard?” Mary asked, fixing her son with an incredulous look.

“Is she alright?” Sam asked quickly, his heart racing.

“Well, yes, I suppose she is physically alright,” Mary said, looking at Sam in true confusion. “But I don’t think that she’s liking jail-”

“Jail?” Sam nearly yelled. “What the hell happened?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Mary snapped, glaring at him. “I’m your mother, don’t you forget that.”

“Sorry,” Sam said, looking at the ground and gulping. “I just… I didn’t expect this.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Mary said, her expression softening into sympathy. “I have the newspaper in the den. Do you want me to go get it?”

Sam nodded mutely, looking at the wood grain of the table as he went deep into thought. What could have happened that was so horrible that Tesla had ended up in jail?

Mary returned with the newspaper and handed it to her son, sinking into a chair across the table from her son.

Sam read the newspaper, his eyes widening as he read about the redaction scandal.

“Tesla… she covered up an embezzlement scandal?” Sam asked in shock. “How could… she…”

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Mary said, placing her hand on Sam’s. “I know she was a dear friend of your’s.”

“I-I,” Sam stammered, dropping the paper onto the table. “I need to get some air…”

He rose suddenly, abandoning the coffee and heading for the back door, Jimmy not far behind.

* * *

Sam hurried out in the backyard, trying to slow his breathing and calm down. He entered the orchard and headed deep into the orange trees. Their fragrant aroma was instantly calming, but he didn't slow down until he could see the faint figure of he and Dean's playhouse. It was overgrown with vines and only barely visible under the leaves. He knew that this meant he was almost to the clearing so he changed pace to a slow walk, tramping down the mint that had started to take over this part of the orchard.  **  
**

“Jimmy, did you know?” he finally asked, pausing in the glade.

“Pardon me, sir?” Jimmy asked, looking confused.

“Did you know about Tes-Miss Allen?” Sam asked, correcting himself.

Jimmy cleared his throat and looked at anywhere but at Sam.

“Did you?” Sam asked again, his voice going lower and more threatening.

“I did, sir,” Jimmy admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, sir?” Jimmy asked, looking very awkward.

“Honestly.”

“I thought that you had orchestrated it,” Jimmy said, shifting from foot to foot. “That you had been the one to turn Miss Allen into the police.”

Sam gaped at his bodyguard and then cleared his throat. “Why would you think that, Jimmy?”

“Because President Singer did that,” Jimmy said stiffly. “Many times.”

“I see.”

“Sir, maybe we should head back inside.”

“Alright…”

* * *

Sam returned inside right as the doorbell rang.

“Sam, I’ll be right back,” Mary said, getting up and walking to the front door.

Right after he heard the door open, Sam heard a loud squeal of joy from his mother followed by cooes and yelled thanks. The door slammed shut and his mother’s footsteps came back to the kitchen.

Sam looked up right as a huge vase of flowers rounded the corner, obscuring his mother’s face. It was a beautiful mix of roses and daisies. The whole bouquet was thick with sweet rosey scents that began to fill the whole kitchen even as she only stood in the entrance to the kitchen.

Mary walked over to the kitchen table, all smiles and placed the vase of flowers in front of Sam on the table.

“Aren’t these flowers gorgeous?” she gushed, stroking several roses. “I can’t believe your brother ordered them for my birthday while he’s in Ireland on an audit of the Dublin base.”

Sam’s head shot up and a look of panic crossed his face.

“And then you flew in for my birthday,” Mary sighed happily, not noticing Sam’s expression. “I swear, you boys get nicer every year.”

* * *

“So, the coffee shop where I can get that coffee cake that she likes is just down the street from here,” Sam told Jimmy, walking backwards down the sidewalk. “And the bookshop is right next door to that.”

Jimmy seemed mildly concerned for his safety, but Sam just kept smiling and checking behind him every few feet, just as he had when he was giving campus tour during his senior year at Stanford.

Jimmy’s mood remained unchanged as Sam continued to talk about what he was going to get for him mother, until they were just passing the entrance steps that led down from the local library.

“Mr. President,” Jimmy said hurriedly, a look of panic on his face right as Sam felt himself slam into someone who had been walking along the sidewalk with the intention of going into the library.

“Oof!” a female voice gasped, right before Sam heard a loud ‘thud’ and a bunch of papers went skidding out over the sidewalk.

A 5’3, well-set woman of thirty two, Rebekah Grimes was the youngest Secretary of State in U.S. history and only the third woman to hold the lucrative post. She’d been only a recent hire before the sudden death of President Singer, but was proving to be settling into her post quite easily.

The odd thing was that she almost never spoke except to make presentations.

Sam knew almost nothing about her beyond the basic biographical things: born in Kentucky, lived in Maryland until fourth grade, moved to and lived in California, became a Senator, and then became President Singer’s right hand (wo)man. And not to mention that she and his brother were working together quite well to try and end the entire situation in the Middle East. Altogether, an impressive resume. Not to mention that she wasn’t that hard to look at. The Secretary had shoulder length brown hair, deep brown eyes behind simple wire frame glasses, light sparsely freckled skin, and curves that could rival the Rockies.

“Madame Secretary,” Sam said, straightening up and adjusting his shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“My thoughts exactly, Mr. President,” she said, adjusting her pile of books and papers and looking up at him, squinting through the late morning sun.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching her carefully.

“Sanford’s my alma mater,” Secretary Grimes explained. “And I have some… research to do.”

Sam’s first reaction was surprise, then confusion. He’d had no idea that she went there as well.

“When did you go?” he asked curiously.

“I started here in 2001,” she said, pushing her glasses a little higher on her nose. “The year after you graduated, right?”

“Oh,” Sam said, releasing a breath he’d been holding. “Well, it was good to see you again. I’d better let you get back to work-”

“Wait!” she yelped, stepping towards him once. “Sorry, um… would you be interested in helping me out? I’ve been practically living in the library for the past few days, but can’t find the document I need.”

Sam stepped a little closer, suddenly intrigued by her offer. In all his time at Stanford, he hadn’t found a source he couldn’t find.

“I’d love to,” he said with a grin, gesturing for Jimmy to follow them up the steps. “So, what is this project of yours?”

“I’m writing a paper on gang activity in the 1920’s,” Secretary Grimes explained. “And in order for me to be able to finish my draft, I need a first edition copy of the Chicago Sunday Tribune from when Al Capone was arrested.”

“They don’t have any of them?” Sam asked, looking down at her in surprise.

Secretary Grimes shook her head. “No, Mr. President. I’ve been all through the files, but all they have are transcripts of the articles.”

“Wouldn’t that work just as well?” Sam asked, pausing at the top of the stairs.

She shook her head, looking a bit disappointed in herself. “No, I’m trying to be able to examine the actual newspaper itself. That day, there were also two major moonshine arrests that were almost as important Al Capone being arrested, but that only made it into the later parts of the paper,” she explained. “You can only find those in the newspapers themselves. I really feel like an idiot for choosing such an obscure topic for my paper…”

“No, no, I think that that’s brilliant,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling down at her. “You know, I’m a bit of a history buff too. I was considering that as my major when I was going here, but went with Poly Sci instead.”

“Really?” Secretary Grimes asked, looking impressed. “Well, want to take the plunge and see if we can find this paper?”

“Absolutely,” Sam agreed, entering with library with her. 

* * *

“Mr. Vice President, a word, please,” a smooth, Southern accent said from behind Vice President Fitzgerald.

“Of course, Speaker Crowley,” Garth said with a smile, turning to face the Speaker of the House, Fergus Crowley.

“Now, was I mistaken in there or did you just suggest that we start making plans to shrink our paychecks?” the Speaker asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” Garth said, puffing out his chest with pride.

“That is a very ambitious plan, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Speaker Crowley said, his voice becoming sharp. “I don’t think that many people will be willing to get behind it.”

“Well, considering that we control the Senate, I don’t think that it will be an issue,” Garth said, his smile waning and a small scowl taking its place. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Speaker.”

“Of course,” Crowley said, stepping aside. “Have a nice evening, Mr. Vice President.”

* * *

Two hours later, they emerged; haggard, pale, and looking drained of life.

“Hey, it’s almost one o’clock,” Sam said, glancing at his watch. “Do you want to grab some lunch?”

“Uh, sure, Mr. President,” she said, adjusting her stack of papers and books. “I just need to drop this stuff off at my car, then we can go. I’ll be right back.”

She started heading down the steps, her hair bouncing with each step. When she got to the bottom, Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Madame Secretary!”

She paused and turned to face Sam, squinting up at him. “Yes, Mr. President?”

“Just call me Sam,” he said, shoving his hands back into his pockets and smiling at her.

She returned the smile herself, nodding slowly. “Just call me Rebekah,” she said, grinning and hurrying down the rest of the steps to her car.

* * *

_Ring ring._

Vice President Fitzgerald picked up his office phone. “Vice President Fitzgerald, how can I help you?” he asked with a small smile.

“Mr. Vice President. You have been making enemies in very high places,” a garbled voice on the other line said.

“Excuse me, who is this?” Garth asked, looking confused.

“A warning. Remove your pay cut bill from the Senate floor or face the consequences.”

“I won’t do that,” Garth said, shaking his head like the person on the other side could see him. “I made a promise that I would get this bill passed.”

“So be it.”

_Click._

* * *

She stayed true to her word, returning in less than five minutes with only her purse.

“Ready to go?” she called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah,” Sam yelled back, jogging down the steps.

There was an awkward pause as they both stood there, waiting for either one of them to make a move first.

“I know a great Mandarin place near here,” Rebekah said first, shifting from foot to foot. “If you want to grab some lunch.”

“Yeah, um, of course,” Sam said. “Lead the way.”

“Alright…” Rebekah said, walking down the sidewalk and heading to the row of restaurants that lined a road by the quad.

She stopped in front of a dilapidated store front. The neon sign over the door read ‘The Flying Tiger’ and she didn’t hesitate to enter it. Sam followed her, wrinkling his nose briefly at the thick smell of grease, orange, and noodles.

An old man came tottering out of the kitchen and picked up a set of three menus. He gestured for them to follow him and led them to a table near the back where the light was low and there was only just enough room for Jimmy and Sam to fit in one side the table. The old man handed them the menus and then headed back to the kitchen, leaving them alone for a few moments to look over the menu.

“This is really a hole in the wall place, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but the majority of the time, students are always in here,” Rebekah confided. “They have the best wontons in the country here.”

Before Sam could reply, the old man came back and looked expectantly at Jimmy.

“I won’t be eating anything,” Jimmy said, clearing his throat and setting the menu back on the table.

The old man shrugged and turned to Rebekah next.

“Nǐ hǎo, wǒ kěyǐ yǒu zhūròu shuǐjiǎo?” Rebekah asked, looking over the menu briefly.

The old man’s face lit up and he began talking rapid fire to Rebekah, her shooting answers right back.

“Bìngqiě jiāng nǐ de tóngbàn xǐhuān shénme?” the man asked.

“Sam, what do you want?” Rebekah asked him in English.

“Um, I’ll have the shrimp lo mein,” Sam said, glancing between the two.

“Tā jiāng yǒu xiā lāo miàn,” Rebekah translated.

The old man nodded, the grin still on his face as he hurried back to the kitchen.

“What did you say to him?” Sam asked, a smile appearing.

“I just told him how I loved coming here in college and how I would send my compliments to the chef,” Rebekah said, blushing.

“I’m looking to buy some birthday gifts for my mother,” Sam said. “Do you want to tag along?”

“Of course,” Rebekah said, grinning as she picked up her purse. “Where’d you want to go first?”

“Well, there is a really nice coffee shop over by the other side of campus,” Sam explained, getting up and heading outside, Rebekah walking at his side and Jimmy as his shadow.

* * *

_Ring ring. Ring ring._

Vice President Fitzgerald picked up his phone and continued walking through the park, anxious to get home.

“Mr. Vice President, this is your last chance,” a garbled voice on the other end said. “Accept our terms, or face the consequences.”

“Who is this?” Garth asked, looking extremely confused, turning around and finding himself with a gun barrel snug against his chest.

Garth looked up to the hit man, his eyes widening for only a second before narrowing.

“I knew there was something off about you,” Garth said, hearing a click on the other end of the phone.

His assailant didn’t speak.

“I hope the money is worth killing your best friend,” Garth spat. “So, go ahead, take the shot. I hope Krake finds your sorry ass and sends you to Guantanamo.”

_Click. Cr-ack!_

_Thud._

* * *

_SCREECHHHHHHHH_

Rebekah bounced lightly in her seat as Air Force One touched down, looking slightly terrified and provoking a chuckle from Sam. She shot him a dirty look and then started laughing herself.

“Okay, okay, I’m sure that looked pretty funny,” she giggled. “But come on. I mean, we’re two of the most powerful people in the world. We shouldn’t be laughing at that.”

“I’m the goddamn President,” Sam laughed. “I’ll laugh at whatever I feel like.”

The giggles and chuckles continued until Air Force One eased to a halt and the staff began to collect their things to get off the plane.

Jimmy looked only mildly amused at their antics as he stood and started to gather up his belongings.

“Hey, Jimmy,” Sam suddenly said. “Can you call the motorcade? Let them know that I will be taking the Secretary home.”

The mood of the room did a complete one eighty.

“I’ll just call a taxi,” she said, collecting her bags.

“I can give you a ride there,” Sam insisted. “I mean, when will you ever get to ride in the Beast again?”

Rebekah gave Sam a nervous look, but slowly nodded, a wide smile creeping onto her face.

“You only live once, right?” she asked, making Sam grin.

* * *

They hurried down the steps and to the motorcade, climbing into the Beast and settling in for the ride home.

“So, um, your mother seemed very nice,” Rebekah said, breaking the awkward silence. “And she liked her presents very much.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “She’s one of the nicest people I know,” he said, a nostalgic smile appearing on his face.

The conversation continued at that state until they reached her town home just down the street from the White House. Jimmy helped carry the bags inside and Sam and Rebekah continued chatting, their laughter bouncing up and down the street. Once inside, they settled into the living room, nursing glasses of merlot and chatting about their trip to California.

“So, um, it’s getting late,” Rebekah finally said at around midnight, glancing at a clock on the mantle. “You should be getting home.”

“I really don’t have to,” Sam said, still smiling. “I could stay a little bit longer if you like?”

“I would like that very much,” Rebekah said, smiling widely again.

_Ding-dong._

“I’ll be right back,” Rebekah said, setting her glass of wine down and going to her front door.

Sam followed her quietly, wondering who could be up this late at night.

“Madame Secretary,” the Chief Justice said, walking briskly inside when she opened the door, still dressed in his robes from the day’s deliberation. “Or should I say, Mrs. Vice President.”

“Justice Shurley, what are you talking about?” Rebekah asked, looking at the Chief Justice in shock.

“Madame Secretary, we need you to assume the role of Vice President,” the justice explained.

Sam stared at the justice as well, surprised at his declaration. As far as he knew, Vice President Fitzgerald was in perfect health.

“But what happened to Garth?” she asked, seeming to read Sam’s mind.

“Have you seen the news?” Chuck asked, looking confused now.

Sam shook his head and Rebekah was still staring at Chuck in shock. He sighed and went to the TV, turning it on and turning up the volume.

The usual reporter, Ruby Cortesse, was reporting from a park while police lights blared across the screen.

“For those of you just tuning in, we at KDC7 are live at the George Waterfront Park where Vice President Garth Fitzgerald IV was shot and killed this afternoon,” Ruby said, pressing her left hand to her ear as she listened to an ear piece. “The police have been combing a six block radius for the perpetrator since his Secret Service agent called for help, but the culprits have yet to be found. This is believed to be the work of a home-grown terrorist group that is being funded by Ahd Muhtarif.”

Rebekah gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth and Sam’s jaw dropped open. He suddenly felt a little sick to his stomach and felt around for a chair, slumping into it.

“Oh my god,” Sam said, feeling shell-shocked. 


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t be Vice President,” Rebekah stammered nervously, ripping her eyes away from the TV and back to the Chief Justice. “It should be the Speaker of the House, then the president pro tempore of the Senate, then…” she was cut off with a stern look.

“Madame Secretary, currently, they refused the post and neither of them can be reached. We need a VP now,” Chuck said firmly, looking to Sam for confirmation.

Sam could only nod slowly, still stunned by the loss of his running mate and close friend.

“We need to administer the Oath of Office, ma'am,” Chuck said, pulling out a copy of the Bible. “Will you please-”

“I’m sorry,” Rebekah blurted, cutting him off. “I won’t swear on the Bible.”

Chuck gave her a curious look, but shrugged. “You have to swear on something, Madame Secretary.”

She immediately walked to the bookcase and began rifling through the books, finally settling on one small volume, which she pulled from the shelf and carried back to the judge.

“I’ll only swear on this,” she said, holding out her copy of the U.S. constitution to the judge. If he noticed the slight shake in her hands he said nothing, and she was grateful as he took it.

Chuck took the book with a raised eyebrow and flipped through it, nodding in permission despite the unorthodoxy of the document. “This will work. Are you ready to take the oath?”

She swallowed and nodded her consent. “Yes, I am…”

“Then place your hand on this Constitution and repeat my words,” Chuck said, holding out the book with one hand and raising his other hand.

“I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

“I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

“That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same.”

“That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same.”

“That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

“That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

“And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.”

““And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.”

“So help me God?”

Sam had slowly stood during this portion and was watching, his eyes only on Rebekah as she made one of the most ground-breaking moves in American history.

“… So help me history.”

“… Congratulations, Miss Vice President,” Chuck said, handing her the book back.

“Thank you, Justice,” she said, returning the book to its place on the shelf.

“Mr. President, Mrs. Vice President,” Chuck said, bowing quickly before heading to the door.

Sam nodded back and waited until Chuck was out the front door before sighing and falling onto the couch.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked thin air, staring off into space.

“I think I just became Vice President,” Rebekah breathed, sounding just as shell-shocked and collapsing onto the couch next to him.

“My god,” Sam said, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes wearily.

* * *

CNN: Breaking News:

It has just reached our newsroom that Secretary of State Rebekah Grimes has ascended to the office of Vice President following the murder of Vice President Fitzgerald earlier this evening, making her the first female Vice President in United States history.

Although this is a completely unorthodox maneuver, both the Speaker of the House Fergus Crowley and the President pro tempore of the Senate Meg Masters are on a visitation to Nepal to pay a visit to the Dalai Lama and were also planning on attempting a hike of Mt. Everest. This trip has placed them in an area that will make them unavailable for calls or communication until their return and the United States needs their Vice President.

“I’m surprised and excited for this new development,” a local reporter said. “It will be interesting to see how she handles the new position.”

* * *

The next morning, Rebekah couldn’t remember why her alarm was going off so early. Congress didn’t meet until 10, so why was her alarm going off at 7?

She reached out and slapped the snooze button on her alarm, checking the time to be sure.

Yep. Still 7 AM.

Suddenly, she remembered.

“I’m Vice President,” she whispered, a huge smile growing on her face as she climbed out of bed. “I’m Vice President!”

She let out a scream of joy and started dancing around her room, feeling like a twelve year old, but loving every second of it.

Then she saw the time.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be late,” she gasped, running into her closet and throwing on a quick skirt and blouse, not even paying attention to the color in her haste.

* * *

Sam raised an eyebrow and began to shuffle through the papers. “That’s an interesting color choice, Vice President Grimes,” he said, pulling a thick manilla folder from the stack.

He handed it to her and Rebekah pulled a thick file out of the envelope. It was labeled “Vice Presidential File: Accession Protocols’.

“That’s got everything you need to know about your new duties,” Sam explained, leaning back in his chair again. “The Library of Congress put together a file for Vice Presidents who have to ascend to the position because of something happening to the Vice President before them. It was started after JFK was killed.”

“Cool,” Rebekah said quietly, not entirely listening as she went through the file paper by paper.

Sam was about to continue when he noticed that she was engrossed with the file.

“Rebekah?” he asked, hoping that he wasn’t stepping over the line by using her name.

She started with a jerk and gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sir.”

“Looks like you’re going to be moving,” Sam said, pulling a sheet of paper loose from the back of her file and handing it to her.

She took it, looking confused, but her eyes widened when she read the paper.

“I’m moving into Number One, Observatory Circle?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes, that has been the home of Vice Presidents since the 1890’s,” Sam explained, handing her the rest of the file. “I think everything you need to know about the house and your new title are in this file, as I said before. Including the residency.”

“How soon should I move in?” she asked, looking over the information about the house.

“As soon as possible,” Sam said, leaning forward and resting his hands in a clasped position on the desk.

“Okay, I’m probably going to have to move in next week or the week after that,” she said, not seeing the surprised look on his face.

“Why?” Sam asked, causing her to look up.

“Most of my family and friends are in Pennsylvania and California,” she explained. “I’m going to need some help to move.”

“But they won’t get here until you need to already be moved in,” Sam pointed out.

“Then I guess I’ll take this weekend to move,” she declared, shutting the file firmly.

“Rebekah…” Sam said, standing and walking around the desk towards her. “You aren’t going to be able to do this on your own.”

“Yes, I can,” she said, clutching onto the file more tightly.

“You just said that you would need help,” Sam pointed out, leaning back on the desk.

“I did…” she agreed. “But I can handle it.”

“Rebekah, I insist,” Sam said, watching her carefully. “I can get a bunch of Secret Service agents to come and help too.”

“We’re going to help you move,” Sam promised, grinning.

* * *

She was shown into her new office next, a spacious area that made her old office look like utter shit, put lightly.

Rebekah had only barely settled into her chair when there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, wondering who it could be.

A petite girl with bright blonde hair and blue eyes behind thick glasses who couldn’t have been more than twenty entered, looking completely terrified and ready to bolt.

“Miss Vice President?” she asked, pushing her glasses up further on her nose.

“Yes?” Rebekah asked, feeling the need to do the same to her own glasses, but restraining herself.

“I’m Hope Moran,” the girl introduced herself. “I’m your secretary.”

“Nice to meet you, Hope,” Rebekah said with a wide smile.

* * *

Rebekah had just climbed into her car after the long first day when her phone rang. Not recognizing the number, she picked up anyways.

“Hello, Vice President Grimes,” a garbled voice said on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, who is this?” she asked, looking confused.

“A person who helped make your career happen,” the voice said.

“Excuse me, but how is that even possible?” she asked, her tone becoming sharp and barbed.

“Mr. Fitzgerald was becoming… inflexible to our demands.”

“So you killed him?” Rebekah asked, the shock evident in her voice.

“We did what was needed to be done,” the caller said simply. “Unfortunately, he refused our final offer and steps had to be taken.”

“And why are you calling me?”

“Because we hope that you will be more… receptive to our demands.”

“And what are these ‘demands’?” Rebekah asked carefully.

“We want you to run for president in 2020,” the voice said. “You are already in the public’s eye and have one of the highest public approval ratings in Washington, which places you in an excellent position to plan for and announce your candidacy.”

Rebekah was stunned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The only foe you would be facing would be the incumbent, but the Democratic National Committee will vow it’s full support of you should you decide to accept,” the voice continued. “And President Winchester will be crippled without the support of his party.”

“I am not going to run against President Winchester,” Rebekah said, her voice shaking slightly, but growing with anger. “He’s my colleague, my friend, my-”

“Mrs. Vice President,” the mystery caller said, cutting her off. “I suggest you take a long, good look at the fact that we put you where you are. And we can damn well take you out of it.”

“Go to hell,” Rebekah spat into the phone. “And take your threats with you.”

She hung in a split second, leaving the person on the other end a bit surprised, but just smirking.

“Tell our insider that it’s time to initiate the backup plan. If she won’t cooperate, we’ll make it so she has to.”

* * *

The car brakes screeched as the driver tried to stop and avoid the body in the middle of the road.

The woman got out, running over to the body and checking for a pulse.

When she couldn’t find any, she pulled out her cell phone and called 911.

“Hello? I found a body. I think it’s Judge Shurley.”

* * *

“Thanks for helping me move, Sam,” Rebekah said, trying not to look at him.

It had been completely unexpected when Sam had shown up at her front door in workout pants and a tanktop with his hair pulled back and several bottles of water.

The day had only become more awkward when the sweat started to flow and his tank top began to cling to his shirt in an unholy way as they removed each box from her small townhome and took them to her new home by the Observatory.

And she thought he was most hot when addressing the whole United States.

It had been a long arduous day and finally, they had moved everything into the new house. It had been much more lavish than she expected, with plenty of room for all of her things. All of the boxes were unpacked she could finally relax in peace. But that left one last thing to ask.

“Sam… “ she asked, leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Hm?” he asked, looking up from the flowers that he was arranging in a vase.

“Would you be interested in staying to help me try out this new kitchen?” she asked hesitantly, her hands clenching into fists.

“I wish I could,” Sam said, looking disappointed. “But my brother just got back from Dublin and I promised that I’d take him out to dinner.”

“Oh,” Rebekah said, completely deflating in disappointment. “I totally understand. Tell him I said hi.”

“I will,” Sam promised, flashing her one of his trademark smiles as he headed from the kitchen to the front entryway.

“Bye!” she yelled after him, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Oh, and I left the newspaper on the table,” Sam called right before he shut the door.

“Thanks!” she yelled, heading in to read the paper and feeling like the Earth could just swallow her whole with embarrassment.

The paper was crisp and she flicked it open, hating the feeling of the ink under her fingers, but enjoying the smell of the paper. A headline on the front page immediately caught her eye and she read with rapt attention.

* * *

CNN Headline News: Death of a Bachelor

Today was full of chaotic surprises in the nation’s capital.

Not only did we see the election of a new Vice President (The first woman to ever be promoted to this position), but we saw the engagement of one of the Winchester brothers!

CNN is pleased to announce the surprise engagement of-

* * *

“No. Fucking. Way.” she said, her eyes wide in shock.


	4. Chapter 4

_Well, we lied, it isn’t one of the Winchester brothers. But it is a Winchester.  
_

_Henry Winchester, the younger cousin of Sam and Dean, was spotted going into a Tiffany store with his cousins last night and then images surfaced of him proposing to his long time girlfriend, Emma Haynes. Miss Haynes is an intern in the Pentagon and she and Henry met three years ago._

Rebekah took a deep breath and sighed in relief, surprised at how nervous he had been about the article. Was she- worried about Sam’s relationship status?

She audibly scoffed and stood up, leaving the paper on the counter and wandering through the house, deep in thought.

For the first time in her time in the capitol, she was feeling hesitant about where she was and what she was doing. Even thinking about what had happened in California was defying everything that she was supposed to be following, every moral code she had ever adhered to.

This was going to be a very difficult presidency.

* * *

“Alright, I think that covers the last of the debriefing for today,” the new Chief of Staff Caitlin Brannigan said, closing a file folder and taking a seat at the long table.

The table had nine large seats, with one at the head of the table and eight of them evenly split on the sides. Sam sat to Miss Brannigan’s right and Rebekah sat across from him, with General Winchester on Sam’s other side, Secretary Talbot on Rebekah’s left, Director Krake next to Dean and the rest of the seats remaining empty.

“I have an announcement to make,” Sam suddenly said, rising and smiling at Miss Brannigan.

She nodded her consent, the cheesy smile on her face making it obvious that she was about to melt off the chair. Sam walked around to the other end of the table and smiled widely.

“I recently received news from London that the Queen would like to make a visit to Washington,” he said, looking over the members of his cabinet. “And that she would like to take this opportunity to meet our new Secretary of State.”

Sam took a deep breath before continuing. “However, my choice for Secretary of State is out of the country right now, but I was hoping that Vice President Grimes-”

Everyone at the table looked down at her in surprise and she looked down at the table, suddenly interested in her notepad.

“-Would be willing to help her feel more welcome,” Sam continued, gazing at everyone at the table. “Considering her extensive experience as Secretary of State.”

“I would be honored, Mr. President,” she said, looking up and making eye contact.

Sam’s manner seemed to falter for a second when she made eye contact, but he put back on his professional air.

“She’ll be arriving this evening. I expect a full military escort to transport her safely to the White House and then the ballroom,” Sam instructed, looking to his brother. “She will make a grand entrance at the ball this evening and then in the following days, you will show her around the museums and major attractions. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, nodding.

“Both the Vice President and I will be introduced first, then we will wait for the queen to be announced.”

“Good. I expect to see all of you at seven sharp this evening,” Sam said, casting a sharp glare around the room. “Dress formally. This is a ball after all.”

* * *

“So, how do we want to do this?” Rebekah asked, pacing awkwardly.

“Do you just want to hold hands until we get to the main pause point and then separate?” Sam suggested, adjusting his cufflinks.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Rebekah agreed, walking over to the ‘x’ on the floor that marked where she was supposed to stand.

The presenter began to announce them and Sam extended his hand to her.

“Presenting, Mr. Sam Winchester and Miss Rebekah Grimes, the President and Vice President of the United States of America!”

Right before the door opened, she grabbed his hand, feeling a shock when their palms touched. Sam jumped as well, but stayed focused, putting on a fake smile as he shifted their hand positions so that his hand was almost all the way wrapped around her’s.

The doors opened and they began walking, waving with their free hands and smiling at family and friends they could see beyond the flashes of cameras and the lights filling the room. When they reached the next ‘x’, Sam dropped Rebekah’s hand and stepped to the side of the red carpet. She did the same, turning to face Sam, rubbing her hand.

“Presenting, Her Royal Highness, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, Queen of United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, and Head of the Commonwealth,” the presenter yelled.

The queen entered, a small smile on her face as she gripped the arm of the British ambassador, Balthazar Bukater. The pair walked down the red carpet and stood between Sam and Rebekah as the crowd roared it’s approval. The Queen turned to Sam and spoke a few quiet words, making him laugh, nod, and take her arm to lead her to the dance floor.

The British national anthem began to be played by the live band and the entire delegation of ambassadors to the United States began to join the dance floor with the queen and the President. Rebekah slowly went with the flow of the crowd and made her way to the main podium table that had places set for the main guests of honor.

After the first song, all of the guests on the dance floor made their way to their seats and the servers came running out of the kitchen with the dinners for everyone there. It was a sumptuous feast, and everyone was talking, but the main table was almost completely silent. Sam sat two seats away from Rebekah and the Queen sat between them, keeping a constant chatter going.

The band struck up a version of ‘Pound the Alarm’ and half of the people from the tables got up to go dance, leaving the table area almost empty of people. The Queen was one of them and she took Balthazar with her. Rebekah picked at her food, not really in the mood to eat and Sam seemed equally out of place now that they were alone.

Finally, Sam snapped, slamming his fist down on the table, making Rebekah jump.

“What the hell are we doing,” he growled, turning in his seat to face her. “Everyone else is out there having a grand old time and we are just sitting here.”

He rose and walked over, extending his hand to her. “Let’s dance. I am tired of just sitting around.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. President, I don’t know how to dance,” she said, remaining in her seat and watching the other diplomats spin around the dance floor.

Sam snorted and leaned over her shoulder, placing one hand on the back of her chair and the other hand next to her’s on the table. His sheer proximity was starting to make her uncomfortable, but in good way and she straightened her posture as he spoke close to her ear.

“You see Dean and CJ? Dancing right up next to the band?” Sam asked, his breath hitting against her neck and making her shiver. “They don’t give a fuck what other people are thinking about them dancing. And Rose and Jimmy? Jimmy took three years of dance classes, but he looks like a crashing airplane. Emma and my cousin, Henry? He’s trying to teach her out how to Charleston. Ella and Gadreel? They don’t give a damn about dancing to a waltz instead of hip hop. And Vixen over there? Dancing with herself? Doesn’t give a damn either. And neither should you.”

He pulled back, taking the cloud of tension with him and then extended his hand to her.

Rebekah slowly stood, and took his hand hesitantly, knowing that he made a good point and letting him lead her to the edge of the dance floor. The musicians changed tempo and songs, turning it to a slow song, a [waltz](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DbnTxTz2ToZY&t=ZWVkOTA3ODg1ZWY3ZTJhZjA5MDMwNTk3ZmVlYzA5NmM0YzJmODM1YSxvR2sxTjRjZw%3D%3D&b=t%3AYmM2-EX78zdHo_cuoX_1tg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshido.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140960560085%2Fhail-to-the-chief-part-four&m=1).

Sam bowed, a small smile on his face, and Rebekah curtseyed back, taking his hand and setting her other hand on his shoulder. The dancing was at first a simple box step and before she knew it, they were dancing around the floor with the flow of other dancers.

Sam was only inches from her, barely leaning down to keep his mouth close to her ear.

“Was that too hard, Miss Vice President?” he asked, the smirk easily able to be heard in his tone.

“I suppose not, Mr. President,” she replied just as formally, more focused on her dancing then the conversation.

There was no more conversation until the end of the song when they stepped away from the dance floor and returned to their table.

“I must say, you look lovely in that [dress](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.mydresses100.com%2Fimages%2Fl%2Fformaldresses%2FCourt-Train-One-Shoulder-Eggplant-PurpleEvening-Dress-Ruch-Appliques-mqr0919091.jpg&t=N2QwZGJjMTNmZGRlZDU1MDdhOGUxNDliOTNhNWMyZmRjODQwMDMwMixvR2sxTjRjZw%3D%3D&b=t%3AYmM2-EX78zdHo_cuoX_1tg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshido.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F140960560085%2Fhail-to-the-chief-part-four&m=1),” he whispered, looking away from her, but still speaking to Rebekah.

She bit her lip slightly, not sure how to respond, but when he next pushed her out for the dance and drew her back in, she spoke, rising on her tiptoes to try and whisper in his ear.

“The tuxedo definitely is a different look for you,” she whispered, pulling back when she felt him shiver and look away.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line, sir,” she said softly, not looking at him.

“No, no, it was fine,” he said, pulling her chin back to look at him. He smiled gently, dropping his hand back to her waist. Neither of them spoke through the rest of the song.

* * *

The dance partners changed and she found herself dancing with Dmetri, the Russian diplomat. He was a man about her height with brilliant blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes. They had been good friends since their beginnings in their own respective governments. He was a terrible flirt, but never crossed relationship lines.

“Zdravstvuyte, Revekka (Hello, Rebekah),” he said in Russian, smiling widely and waltzing her across the floor.

“Hello to you as well, Dmetri,” she said with a wide smile.

His eyes widened in surprise, then he started grinning. “You know Russian!”

“A little bit,” she admitted, smiling down at the floor. “I was hoping to surprise you.”

“Then you have succeeded, moy drug,” he said, leaning close to her ear. “I would also like to mention that you seem to have caught the attention of your fearless leader. He does not seem to be too pleased to see me being in such close contact with you.”

“Really?” Rebekah asked, feeling very confused. He was?

“When I spin you around next, look for him at the bar,” he whispered. “And… now.”

As she was spun, she barely caught a glimpse of Sam staring darkly at the two of them, holding a glass of whiskey and ice.

“He does seem to be in a foul mood,” she whispered.

“Rebekah, you’d have to be blind to not see that he is into you,” Dmetri said with a smile. “I would kill to have a man like him look at me that way.”

Rebekah bit her lip as they continued dancing, thinking it over. They had only been on one sort of date and that hadn’t even ended that well. The day finished out by them finding out a good friend had been murdered.

“Dolzhny li my zastavit’ yego revnovat’?” Dmetri asked with a knowing smirk.

“Yes,” she whispered, smirking back. “So, what do you want to do?”

“How about.. This?” he asked, right before giving her a light kiss in the cheek.

Rebekah giggled, pretending to be blushing from the kiss.

And that was all it took.

As soon as the song ended, she felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder and Sam pulled her away from Dmetri.

“Miss Vice President,” Sam asked, his eyes dark and full of what could only be described as lust. “May I have this next dance?”

Rebekah barely glanced at Dmetri before nodding her consent. He immediately grabbed her other hand and started dancing with her, the tension palpable in the air.

“How did the paper on gangsters go?” he asked, surprising her.

Rebekah stepped back from him, surprised at him remembering her paper.

“I’m not completely forgetful,” Sam said with a low chuckle. “And I always get what I want.”

He suddenly sent her out in a spin while still holding her hand and then pulled her back in, dipping her when she reached their former position. The song ended with a flourish and he stared at her, his face only inches from her’s.

There was applause from everyone watching and Rebekah blushed, pulling back out of the dip and straightening her gown.

“If you will excuse me, sir,” she said, giving him a small bow and sweeping off the dance floor.

She hurried across the crowded ballroom and through a door into the side hall. She paced for several minutes before finally pausing at one of the paintings to try and distract herself.

“So, this is where you snuck off to,” Sam’s voice said from behind her.

Rebekah spun around, shocked to see him leaning up against the wall by the doors.

“I’m impressed that you found me,” she said smoothly, hiding the surprise in her voice. “Most people don’t come out here during parties.”

“Well, I’ve always been one for a good mystery,” he said, walking over.

“Oh really?” she asked, walking closer as well, but staying close to the wall.

“Yes,” Sam said, pausing only inches from her. “And I’ve been wanting to find out what this will do all night.”

He suddenly pushed her up against the wall, his hands on either side of her face as he suddenly kissed her, the movements quick and desperate with need. It left her breathless and when he finally pulled back, they were both panting.

“That was even better than I thought it would be,” he muttered, smiling shyly at her.

Rebekah didn’t respond, she was in an almost shock.

Sam seemed to notice and looked at her worriedly. “Was that too much?”

She finally shook herself out of it and smiled, lunging up and kissing him this time, their lips crashing together and her hands tangling in his hair.

He looked just as stunned as she had felt when the kiss broke and Rebekah felt an internal sense of pleasure from seeing that.

“Does that answer your question, you clever boy, you?” she whispered.

It was an almost instantaneous change in Sam and his eyes became dark with lust.

“Yes, yes, it does,” he said, undoing his tie and smirking.

* * *

Rebekah lifted their two champagne flutes from the table, thanking the lord that she had gone with her hair in a purposefully messy style this evening.

“Cheers, Mr. President,” she said, handing him the glass.

Only after it left her hand did she realize that there was a small lipstick stain on the glass. But Sam didn’t seem to notice, his eyes were only on her, a smirking smile on his face as he raised the glass.

“To our partnership,” he said, the look in his eyes saying everything but a professional relationship.

“To a fruitful four years,” she agreed, smiling widely and raising her glass to her lips.

They both downed the drinks in one go, setting their glasses on the table next to each other. There was silence for a while as they both savored the taste of the champagne and tried to think of things to say to break the extremely awkward silence.

“Sam, I wanted to apologize,” Rebekah said, fingering the clasp on her clutch and breaking the silence. “I-”

But she was unable to finish when she looked up and saw Sam looking like he had just eaten something that didn’t agree with him.

“Sam?” she asked, looking at him worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know…” Sam looked increasingly worse and had to lean on the table for support.

Then his legs went out from under him and he was falling to the ground.

Rebekah lunged forward to catch him as he fell and only could help guide him to the ground. He looked pale, almost lifeless and she shook his shoulders, panic growing.

“Sam? Sam!”

* * *

CNN SPECIAL REPORT:

This evening, President Sam Winchester collapsed during a party that was held in honor of the Queen of England’s visit and the recent ascent of Vice President Rebekah Grimes. It is unclear what the cause was, but he was transported to Bethesda Naval Hospital with a full guard and caravan.

The Vice President traveled in the ambulance with the President and declined comment as she signed into the hospital for visiting hours.

We will keep you updated with new details that are revealed.

UPDATE:

The cause of the President’s sudden collapse was determined to be roofies that were slipped into his drink by one of the guests at last night’s party. A CIA investigation, spearheaded by Director CJ Krake is underway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has a lot of sexual moments. No actual smut, but plenty of implied sexual activities and foreplay scenes.

“Dean, you need to go home,” Rebekah said, placing a hand on the general’s hand. 

Dean looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He kept his hand wrapped around Sam’s, looking thoroughly worn out terrified at the same time.

“I can’t leave,” he whispered, lifting up his other hand and placing it on Sam’s.

“Dean, you really can,” Rebekah insisted, pulling her hand free. “He’s going to be fine. Remember what they said? He was only roofied and should be waking up once they make sure that it was the only thing he had in his system.”

“I won’t leave him,” Dean snapped, glaring at her over Sam’s lap.

Almost as if on cue, Sam began to stir and groan. Dean sprang into action and rang for a nurse, grasping Sam’s hand even tighter to the point of pain. Sam gasped and pulled his hand away from Dean, staring around the room as he started to become more and more aware of what was going on.

“Sam?” Dean asked sharply, sounding almost panicked. “Sammy?”

“Dean?” he asked, blinking at the bright hospital lights. “Ugh…”

Dean immediately sprang to his feet, not satisfied by the nurse not being there yet. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get you some water.”

Before Sam could reply, Dean was gone and hurrying down the hall. Sam groaned again and shut his eyes tightly, opening them only seconds later to try and relieve the pain. His frantically moving hazel eyes finally landed on Rebekah, who was watching him worriedly, a thousand thoughts running through her mind. He kept blinking, almost feeling as though he might have been imagining her.

“What happened last night?” Sam asked, his voice light and wheezy as he tried to focus on her. “What the-why am I in the hospital?”

“Sam…” Rebekah asked, feeling almost sick to her stomach. “You were drugged last night at the ball. Do you remember anything?”

Sam winced and tried to sit up, gasping from pain at how sore he felt, especially in his right shoulder. “No! Nothing…”

Rebekah stood abruptly when he knocked a pillow to the floor. As she bent down to retrieve the pillow, Sam’s eyes followed her down and he smiled softly, trying to lean forward for her to have more room to place the pillow. With a hesitant smile, she helped him lean up and placed the pillow in the gap between his back and the other pillows.

“Have you been in here since the ball?” Sam asked, looking quite worried as he stared her down.

Despite herself, Rebekah found herself thinking, Damn, those little wrinkles in his forehead…

She cleared her throat and nodded, not wanting to break the spell holding the room in silence.

“You should really go get some sleep,” Sam said, shifting his whole body so he was facing her.

Gingerly, like it hurt him to do so, Sam reached out and took her hand in his smiling softly. He squeezed it momentarily, his hand almost completely swallowing her’s. The moment felt almost eternal and Rebekah couldn’t take her eyes off of his hand on her’s. The silence went on until Sam cleared his throat and broke it, bringing her back to the present.

“Can’t have both of us sick together,” Sam joked, the smile growing wider. “I think the country would flip its lid.”

Rebekah nodded, pursing her lips and standing. She quickly tugged her hand free from his and stepped around the chair, starting to head for the door.

“I’ll see you back in the office, sir,” Rebekah said, holding back tears as she walked.

Sam looked utterly confused, but put on a smile and nodded like nothing was wrong. “Alright, see you then.”

She nodded and turned on her heel to head outside, brushing shoulders with the nurse who had finally arrived. Dean appeared soon after, sporting a paper cup filled to the brim with water, which Sam gratefully took.

“Dean, did I say something wrong last night,” Sam asked his brother, lifting the absurdly small cup to his lips.

Dean shrugged, watching him drink it down. “Dude, I don’t even know. You barely left her side.”

Sam nearly spit out his drink.

* * *

It was the first staff meeting the next day when the real chaos began. Once everyone had assembled, Sam took stock of his staff.

Director Krake was not only wearing a huge smile, but an elegant diamond ring. Dean sat next to her, also smiling as his bodyguard, Agent Vixen Chase sat directly behind him.

Secretary Talbot seemed bored out of her mind and would not stop doodling on her pad of paper.

The new secretary of state, Jo Harvelle, was playing with her pencil and trying to pass time.

But then his gaze fell to the vice president, who was sitting very straight backed in her chair to the right of him and not looking at anyone.

Sam cleared his throat and stood, wanting to break the now awkward tension.

“Um, Mr. President,” CJ said, raising her hand gently. “May I make a small announcement?”

Sam nodded his consent and she stood, taking a deep breath and grinning.

“Dean and I are engaged!” she squealed, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Vixen’s head shot up from her phone and she stared Dean down, her eyes boring into his back. Dean looked almost awkward at the announcement, but CJ grabbed his hand, pulling up to show the ring off to everyone at the table. Secretary Talbot eyed it with a raised eyebrow.

“We haven’t set a date yet, but it should be next year,” CJ kept going, not noticing the mixed reactions. “And we are going to invite you all!”

Sam cleared his throat again and smiled thinly. “Let’s get on with the meeting, shall we? I’d like to introduce to you my two nominees for the new position that has opened up, unfortunately.”

Two women came into the conference room and stood next to Sam, both looking deeply nervous.

He nodded to both of them with smiles. “This is Justice Anne Sand and Justice Julia White. I’m hoping that one of them will be confirmed quite soon and we’ll be welcoming them to our staff.”

There was a polite smattering of applause.

“General?” Agent Chase asked, raising an eyebrow. “May I speak to you after the meeting? In private.”

Dean swallowed nervously and nodded, putting on a happy smile when CJ whispered in his ear. “I’d be glad to join you, Agent.”

Everyone began to rise and gather their things, including Vixen and Dean. But they didn’t make any moves to talk to each other until the room was entirely cleared out.

“Well, Mr. Winchester,” Vixen said with a smirk. “I do believe that you and I had better have a nice long chat.”

WIth a kick of her heel, Vixen shut the conference room and left them cut off from the rest of the world.

* * *

Returning to her office, Rebekah flipped through the White House directory and quickly typed a number into her desk phone. The number only rang for two dial tones until a woman picked up.

“Hello?” the cheerful woman said. “Caitlin Brannigan speaking.”

“Miss Brannigan, we need to talk. Can you come to my office?” Rebekah asked, examining her nails.

“Of course, I’ll be right up,” she agreed, hanging up quickly.

Rebekah put her phone down and wrote a quick note on the pad of paper by the phone cradle to schedule a manicure while she waited.

Hope came walking in quickly and barely bowed to Rebekah. “Uh, mam’m? Miss Brannigan is here.”

Rebekah nodded and straightened up in her seat. “Please, send her in.”

Hope hurried out and was quickly replaced with Miss Brannigan. The woman looked almost shorter in the Oval Office and she tucked a lock of her black cherry hair behind her ears while she waited for Rebekah to speak. Rebekah kept writing on the notepad and when she looked up, she watched as Miss Brannigan held back a gag.

“Miss Brannigan, are you alright?” Rebekah asked, concerned.

“Yes, quite alright,” she said, coughing and putting on a small smile. “Just a little stomach bug, it’s been going around the office.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Rebekah said, smiling as well. “So, the business at hand. I want you to get in contact with Speaker Crowley. I want a private meeting with him as soon as possible to discuss the new power situation.”

Caitlin nodded and took a deep breath. “Mam’m, can I speak frankly?”

“Yes, feel free,” Rebekah said, scribbling on the pad of paper.

“I think it would be wise for you speak to President Winchester,” Caitlin said hesitantly. “There was very obviously some tension between you today and it is going to make things very difficult if everything is going to be like some soap opera.”

Rebekah stopped writing sharply. “Miss Brannigan,” she said tersely. “As much as I respect your opinion, I would prefer it if you kept your thoughts about our professional and personal relationship to yourself.”

Caitlin nodded with a thin smile. “Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you,” Rebekah said, opening her laptop and starting to work on a email.

Caitlin left quickly, heading to, not her office, but her small living quarters on the first level of the White House. Entering quietly, she shut the door and plugged the base with a blanket. Smirking, she walked over the bed and grabbed a small riding crop, slapping it experimentally against her hand.

There was a soft groan from the bed and a deep male voice whispered. “God, Cait. That’s so fucking hot.”

Caitlin smirked and ran it down the thigh of the man who was tied down. “I’m glad you think so.”

She barely brought it back and snapped it against his thigh.

There was a hiss of pleasure and the man gasped. “Do it again,” he begged.

An almost evil glint crept into her eyes. “I just might, Michael.”

* * *

“Dean, you need to help me,” Sam begged, kicking his legs up on the edge of his desk in the Oval Office. “Rebekah won’t answer my calls or emails and she barely spoke at the meeting today!”

“Sam, you need to calm down,” Dean ordered, drumming his fingers on his desk. “Think over what you can remember of the night. You said some things were coming back to you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, use that. I mean, obviously something happened between you two. Or maybe she’s just feeling bad about the whole roofie thing, you know,” Dean suggested. “I think you should corner her where she can’t avoid talking to you.”

“Okay, but Dean-”

“Sam, look, call me back once you finish up with what I suggested,” Dean ordered, rolling his eyes and cutting off the call.

* * *

“Rose, dear,” Dean said with a smirk, hanging up his phone. “I do think you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Rose put on an innocent expression. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“I think you do,” Dean said, rising out of his seat. “Mixing up my meeting times, sending me a certain package…”

Rose began to blush and slowly adjusted her glasses as he approached. He stopped directly in front of her and took her hands away from the glasses. He placed them straight down by her side and then removed her glasses, tossing them onto the chair next to the door. Watching his every move, she waited for him to make a move.

As soon as the door shut, he had her up against the wall, his mouth on her and his hands working on her blouse.

* * *

“Miss Vice President! Miss Vice President!” The reporters yelled, each one trying to get her attention at the press conference.

“Um…” she asked, looking beyond the lights and trying to pick out hands from the crowd.

“Can you tell us anything about the state of the President? We know that he’s back in the White House, but how is he?” The reporter asked, holding a pen ready.

“All I can say right now is that President Winchester is doing fine,” Rebekah said, leaning into the mic a little bit. “Next question. Uh, you?”

A man in the third row stood up, his partner rising with a TV camera on his shoulder. “Miss Vice President, is it true that you stayed in the hospital all night last night and did not sleep?”

“Yes, that is true,” Rebekah said, starting to laugh. “If the bags under my eyes hadn’t shown you that first. Next question. You.”

A woman stood now, all the way in the back so she couldn’t see her face. “Miss Vice President, it is known throughout Washington about your devotion to your morals and not wanting to compromise on what matters to you.”

She nodded, waiting for the reporter to continue.

“In light of the most recent events, how will you go about trying to find out who did this to him? And how will you plan to punish the guilty party?” she asked.

“I intend to work with the CIA and FBi along with the secret service to pursue this criminal to the furthest extent,” Rebekah said, smiling thinly. “No rock will go unturned. I intend to find whoever has done this atrocity and bring them to the highest justice possible.”

* * *

“Rose, please get that reporter on the phone, uh, Heather Jenkins?” Dean said, retying his tie and returning to his desk.

He fumbled around in the drawers and withdrew a business card, which he handed to Rose. “That’s her number.”

Rose nodded, returning her glasses to her face. “I’ll be sure to.”

She hurried out, looking quite flushed and much happier than than when she came in. The phone began to ring only moments later and Dean answered the phone with a smirk.

“Hello, Heather,” he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

“Hello, Dean,” she purred back. “Are you ready for our little time…”

Dean grinned and shouldered the phone, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a small pump bottle of white liquid. “Been ready for you, baby,” he replied.

* * *

“Rebekah!” a voice yelled behind her as she exited the White House, going to her car, flanked by Amanda, her new bodyguard.

The voice sent shivers down her spine and she stiffened as Sam approached.

He skidded to a halt next to her and grinned. “Where are you off to in such a hurry this evening?”

“Home,” she replied curtly, attempting to open the door to her car.

Realizing that he was getting nowhere fast, Sam placed his hand on the door to stop it from opening. “Rebekah, talk to me, what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said sharply, her voice on the edge of tears. “Will you please let me go home now?”

“Rebekah,” Sam said, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. He searched her face for any sign of what was wrong, easily seeing the tears, but not anything else. “Talk to me, please.”

She shook her head, not able to speak.

Sam cast around his mind for something to do and then got an idea. He pulled her closer to him and leaned in, their lips crashing together and muffling her gasp of surprise.

Deftly, Amanda stepped between them and the fences so that no one could see them kissing.

* * *

Dean entered his townhouse and set the keys on the counter, tired from his rather… tiring day. There was no sign or word from CJ despite him seeing her car in the garage. He began to move through the house, looking each room. Finally, he reached the second floor and walked past the master bedroom.

“Took you long enough,” CJ said, her voice drawing him into their shared bedroom as he passed.

Dressed only in a lacy garment that barely covered her assets and sipping a flute of champagne, CJ was posed on the bed and surrounded by a sprinkling of rose petals.

Dean’s jaw dropped and he stepped closer, like a man in a trance.

She swallowed the champagne and smirked at him, setting the glass down on the bedside table. Without a word, she crooked her finger at him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean began to grin and stepped closer again, shedding his suit jacket and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I take it that you’re glad to see me?”

CJ’s grin became wider and she sat up slowly, not wanting to disturb the roses. “I’ve been busy trying to keep from being bored.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and reached the edge of the bed, leaning over it so that he was only inches from CJ’s face. “Oh really?” he breathed.

She smirked and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss and onto the bed.

* * *

BREAKING NEWS: Washington Tribune: April 14th, 2016:

The Blue Dress(es):

By: Heather Jenkins

Everyone in Washington knows the story of the Blue Dress. Monica Lewinsky’s famous blue dress stained with… well, you know the story.

Well, now a new scandal has surfaced and it is the Washington Tribune’s great… pleasure to break the news.

This scandal surrounds General Dean Winchester, the famed womanizer brother of the President. Women drool over him daily (I should know, my sister and I do). But now, that won’t be the case.

Let’s catch you up if you’ve been living under a rock.

After a medical report was released to the public by an anonymous source yesterday, every newspaper in the country jumped on the chance to cover the new. The contents of the report were quite stunning and revealed something terrible: General Dean Winchester, the Secretary of Defense has HIV. His doctor, Dr. Lisa Braeden has in fact confirmed the report and has expressed that he and his client will and are petitioning for the removal of the report from the Internet.

But there is a new facet that makes this story even more dangerous.

Spotted and captured on photo with six different women in various positions (Most of which do not involve clothes), the General seems to have been quite busy the past few months. Included in the photos are images of him and Director Krake, his assistant Rose Wilson, personal bodyguard Vixen Chase, and three other unknown women. None of the named parties were available for comment. With the General’s history of affairs and one night stands, it’s only reasonable to suggest that perhaps more women have been infected and Dr. Braeden’s office has been reaching out to as many of the General’s previous partners as possible to try and identify victims.

See photos here

All that this reporter can end on regarding this is that I am glad that I’m not having to face Director Krake tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a hidden Hamilton reference within this chapter! DM me if you find it!

The kiss was brief and passionate and when Sam finally released her shoulders, Rebekah stumbled back a little and stared at him in shock. His chest heaved as he caught his breath and that damn crooked smile began to grow. In the moment as they caught their breath and were able to calm down, Jimmy managed to catch up.

“That felt amazing,” Sam said, breathless and grinning.

“Look, Sam-” Rebekah began, looking away from him, but was cut off before she could continue.

“Bekah, look at me,” he ordered.

She looked up and made eye contact with him. Damnit, he was giving her those goddamn puppy dog eyes with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his.

“Bekah, what happened at the ball?” he asked softly, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

“Sam, I’m not going to tell you,” she said, turning away from him.

He grabbed her wrist, making her spin around and try to pull herself free.

“Let me go,” she ordered, making eye contact with him.

He held her gaze firmly and glanced around again.

“What happened at the ball?” he asked, softer this time. “Did you see who drugged me?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said, tugging her hand loose. “Sam, some things need to stay quiet.”

“Bekah, I don’t know what happened all of last night,” he pleaded. “Please just tell me what happened.”

“Sam, we had sex and the drugged champagne was meant for me,” she admitted, her emotions beginning to get the best of her. “I saw my lipstick stain on the edge of glass right before you dropped it. I didn’t know that anything was wrong until you collapsed, I promise-”

He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob, so many thoughts running through his mind but all of them ending with him comforting her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing her back and tangling his fingers in her hair. “Just let it out.”

“I just…” she whispered back. “I wish we could do it over.”

“I wish we could too,” he replied before he stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “So, Vice President Grimes. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?”

She wiped away the tears and began laughing. “Are you asking me out on a date, President Winchester?” she asked, starting to smile.

“I certainly am,” he said, starting to grin again. “What do you say, think you can give us a shot?”

“I think so,” she agreed, opening her door and getting ready to get in. “Pick me up at eight?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he confirmed, shutting her door for her.

“See you then!” he yelled, waving goodbye.

* * *

Back at the vice president’s home, everything was going to plan. For once, her hair was actually behaving itself and she used a silver pick to hold it up out of her face whilst she did her makeup. Right as she was finishing up her lipstick (a lovely Bordeaux color) her cell phone began to ring.

Seeing that it was Sam, she picked it up and set it to speaker phone.

“Hey Sam,” she said cheerfully, capping her lipstick and stowing it in a drawer. “Can you hear me?”

“Yep, sounds clear,” he said and Rebekah could pick up on his smile. “Got me on speaker?”

“Yeah, just finishing up my makeup,”

“Bekah, I hate to have to do this, but can we reschedule?” Sam asked, sounding very tense.

“Absolutely,” Bekah agreed, feeling a pang of annoyance as she made the final pop of her lips to finish her lipstick. “What’s going on?”

“There’s been a situation,” Sam said gingerly. “Do you think you can get over to the White House?”

“I’m on my way,” Rebekah said, grabbing her purse and heading downstairs.

* * *

“Sam, I read what happened on the way over,” she said, tossing her purse onto one of the couches in front of his desk. “How could he…”

She cut herself off, not wanting to say anything rude about his brother. But Sam seemed to have the same idea.

“Believe me, I know,” Sam agreed with an eye roll. “I had to live with him for almost eighteen years. But this…”

“Doesn’t he know that this job is hard enough without him fucking it up for me?” Sam snapped, shutting the curtains overlooking the back gardens. “I have to deal with so much shit on a daily basis and I don’t need to deal with his love affairs.”

“You need to talk to him about it,” Bekah suggested. “Let him explain himself.”

“You know what, I’m going to do that,” Sam said, grabbing the newspaper with one hand and calling Miss Brannigan into the Oval Office with the other.

She hurried in, stack of Post Its in hand and ready to serve.

“Get my brother up here, right now,” he snapped at Cait.

She hurried out of the room nervously and pulled out her phone, shoving the Post Its in place. It seemed like a new record when Dean came running into the office. His clothes were rumpled, but he still looked pretty well put together. As he approached the desk, Rebekah moved to one of the couches and took a seat, not wanting to be in the firing zone.

There was a tense silence as Sam pretended to read the paper and collected his thoughts. And when Sam went off, he exploded on Dean.

“What the fuck is this?” Sam screamed at his brother, tossing the newspaper at him.

Dean stood to attention, hands clasped behind his back and unmoving as the newspaper slapped him in the face. He barely flinched and the paper dropped to the floor. Rebekah looked away from the scene and felt like she was invading a personal moment.

“You’ve been screwing six different women?” Sam shouted, gesturing wildly and nearly knocking over the American flag behind him.

“Seven,” Dean muttered, looking embarrassed.

“Seven women!” Sam shouted. “And to top it off you’ve got fucking HIV! Did any of them know about this? When were you going to tell me? I’m your brother!”

“Sam, I didn’t even know until a couple of days ago,” Dean said defensively. “I… Well, I have had sex since then, but I was planning on easing them into it.”

“Please tell me that you used a condom,” Sam said exasperatedly, rubbing his temples and walking around the edge of the desk.

There was utter silence and Dean gulped nervously. Sam took a seat in his chair and remained deep in thought. Finally, he moved. Sam punched the intercom button so aggressively that Rebekah was impressed that it didn’t get stuck.

“Get me Press Secretary Frye now,” he said, his voice commanding and dark. “Send her up to my office and tell no one.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Cait’s clear and calm voice responded before hanging up.

The door to the Oval Office opened and a petite, pale blonde woman with cherry red lipstick and a black pencil skirt with a matching top strode in. The Press Secretary, Alice Frye, had a pen tucked behind her ear and a large notepad in her arms, ready to be called at the drop of a hat. She walked up to the desk and stood next to the General.

“Mr. President,” she said respectfully, making a small curtsy and her British accent becoming apparent. “You asked to see me?”

“I know you’re busy,” Sam began but she cut him off.

“What do you need,” she asked.

“Miss Frye,” Sam said, too calm for the discussion at hand. “I understand that you have been handling the other scandals that have come up?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a nod. “What would you like me to release?”

“I want you to lie,” he said, his eyes not on her but on his brother. “I want you to say that everything was safe and not done after he became romantically involved with Director Krake.”

“Anything else, sir?” she asked, taking notes on her notepad.

“Make sure that it is clear that all the women involved are over the age of consent and agreed,” Sam said. “The last thing we need is a rape charge.”

Dean had the decency to look ashamed, but muttered. “I didn’t rape anyone,” he said, sulking.

* * *

The Washington Tribune

By: Heather Jenkins

The Winchester Administration has just released a press release regarding General Winchester’s Political Indiscretion:

_“While we understand that such sexual activities are an indiscretion that casts a pall over the entire administration, it is our duty to inform the public that all of the encounters were consensual while he was not involved romantically with Director Krake and the General did not engage in unsafe behavior after he received his diagnosis on Tuesday evening.”_

Well, I’m sure that  _that_  reassures Director Krake.

* * *

“Dean fucking Winchester!” a high pitched screech echoed through the hall as a person approached the Oval Office.

Sam looked especially alarmed and Alice stepped out of the way of the infuriated Director CJ Krake. There was a resounding smack as her hand came into contact with the General’s perfect jaw and he doubled over, clutching at the red handprint on his cheek.

“Who the hell are these-these sluts!” she screamed at him as he was bent over.

“Ceej, I can explain,” Dean tried to protest, but she cut him off again with a knee to his gut.

“Don’t even, Dean!” she shouted. “Is this why you’ve been working late all the time? I can’t believe that I fucking fell for that lie!”

Her shouts seemed like they were going to bring down the paintings on the walls and even Sam seemed nervous that her rage would be turned on him. Rebekah made a lowkey gesture behind CJ’s back for her and Sam to make a quick exit as CJ shouted and made a quivering mess of one of the most powerful men in the world.

Sam had only begun moving around the desk when Dean threw out a hand to gesture as he prepared to defend himself. In a flash, CJ grabbed his hand and stepped in close to him, judo flipping Dean before he could defend himself.

Sam’s eyes widened and he stopped Jimmy from stepping in and breaking up the fight.

“What the hell was that for?” Dean shouted at CJ from the floor.

“That’s what it felt like to read that fucking article,” CJ screamed at him, looming over him. “I already called the locksmith! Don’t even bother coming home!”

She stormed out and slammed the door to the Oval Office.

“Dean, you aren’t staying here either,” Sam said, helping his brother up from the ground.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, looking utterly confused.

“Having you here means that I approve of what you did,” Sam explained, looking like he wished he could take it back. “Dean, you’ll have to find a hotel.”

“I should go,” Rebekah said, rising and heading for the door.

“No,” Sam said, his head whipping around.

His sharp words stopped her at the door and she looked back at him curiously.

“Please. Don’t,” Sam said, swallowing nervously.

Dean cleared his throat and headed to the door himself. “I’ll talk to you later, Sam,” he directed to his brother before disappearing out of the Office.

The awkwardness was palpable and Rebekah returned to her seat on the couch.

“Was there any reason that you want me to stick around, Mr. President?” she asked, slipping into her formal tone.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” Sam explained, taking a seat on the couch across from her. “Can we just… talk?”

“Sure,” she agreed, starting to smile. “So, did you catch that Philly’s game last night?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Sam said with a grin. “It was amazing how…”

And so they talked long into the night, unaware of the person watching them from a nearby rooftop through a pair of binoculars. Everything was going to plan. All that remained was for the final blow and then Sam Winchester would no longer be a thorn in the side of the Order of Cerebro.

* * *

The Washington Tribune

More Disaster

By Heather Jenkins

As more details come in about Dean Winchester’s affairs and how he has been exiled to a hotel, news is just filtering in of an accident in the Bay of Bengal. The accident involves the President’s private pilot Gadreel Novak and his fiance, Amanda. The two were flying in Gadreel’s private plane when it disappeared from radar yesterday evening. As of right now there is no further knowledge from the Administration of this event, though a source close to the President says that General Winchester is not being allowed to stay at the White House.

* * *

CJ was woken up at 1 AM by a noise that rattled the panes of her window. She at first thought an explosion had gone off outside, but when she pulled open her window, she saw that it wasn’t an explosion.

It was an idiot in the rain with a boombox.

CJ squinted out through the downpour to try and make out the person. Whoever they were focused on her and waved before hefting the boombox on their shoulders. They pressed a button on the boombox and a rock anthem began blasting yet again.

“Sorry!” he yelled up at her. “Wrong side of the tape!”

CJ’s wince turned to a scowl when she heard her fiance’s voice coming from under the jacket. Dean fumbled with the boombox and then hoisted it back up.

“Ceej, I’m so so sorry,” Dean shouted over the soft piano intro. “Please just come down here and talk to me.”

CJ stared at him. Here he was, the man who had chosen her and wooed her and was ready to marry her, but then he had done the worst of all. He had cheated on her. But there he was. Getting soaked to the skin and risking electrocution by holding a boombox up in the pouring rain. In her whole life, no man had ever gone this far to try and win back her affections. It made her incredibly angry.

She stepped back from the window and grabbed her robe before hurrying downstairs and out into the rain. Dean had turned around and was going to go back to the car when CJ tackled him from behind, taking them both down like she was a lioness attacking a gazelle. The boombox went flying and Dean and CJ ended up in the mud.

CJ let him up only enough for him to flip over onto his back.

“You’d better not cheat on me ever again,” CJ threatened.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Dean whispered, green eyes blinking away the raindrops.

“You will be the perfect husband and man, or this is over. You will clean up your act and clean anyone involved in this out of your life. I will not hesitate to Blacklist you. And if you think that’s bad? I will ruin your personal life as well. No more being D.C.’s most eligible bachelor. Understood?” She waited for his affirming nod. “Say. It.”

“Understood.” he breathed, closing the distance between them and kissing her like his life depended on it.

* * *

The Washington Tribune

Cleaning Up His Act

By Heather Jenkins

As the country debates whether or not the General is going to step down from his position of Secretary of Defense, word is coming in of employment changes in the Pentagon. Only two of the changes are worth noting.

Intern Rose Wilson has been fired and was photographed as she exited the Pentagon with her things. Things obviously didn’t end well with them and she was tear-streaked as she walked to a taxi.

Agent Vixen Chase has been officially reassigned according to sources within in the CIA. She has been officially relocated back to her position on the Dublin base.

Sounds like Director Krake has been cleaning up her fiance’s act for him. As of today, she has not made any statements about the relationship between her and the General, though they were seen entering the Pentagon hand in hand this morning.

* * *

Sam was in his private office next door to the Oval Office with his socked feet up on the desk and reading a new bill when Dean arrived. He narrowly dodged one of the new cleaning ladies who was just exiting and adjusted his suit before striding in.

Dean swaggered in Sam’s office with all the cockiness of a young rooster and took a seat directly in front of Sam. He kicked his feet up on the desk, just in case Sam hadn’t seen him come in and coughed loudly.

“Dean, I can see you,” Sam said, not looking up from the bill. “What do you want?”

“Just checkin in on my baby brother,” Dean chuckled, pulling his feet down. “What’cha reading?”

“A bill that Vice President Grimes composed,” Sam said softly, reaching an interesting section.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked, flicking a pencil across the desk.

“It’s about-Dean, stop touching that,” Sam snapped, setting down the paper he was on and smacking Dean’s hand away from a desk toy. “Did you come here to do anything productive or are you just going to bother me?”

“Just here to see my brother and bug the crap out of him,” Dean said with a smirk. “Stop him from his big bad President business.”

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to reading. Dean stayed quiet for a good five minutes before he spoke up.

“Where’s the Football?” Dean asked, making Sam slam his page down and glare at his brother.

“None of your business,” Sam muttered, giving up on stopping Dean from bugging him.

“So, what’d you get up to with the Veep yesterday?” Dean asked, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning forward on the desk.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sam said with an eyeroll. “We had to cancel our date because of you and your many love affairs.”

“Well, while you had a very vanilla night alone, I was a sinful sorbet,” Dean said, relishing each word.

“Who the hell would let you be a sinful sorbet with them,” Sam said in disgust.

“My fiance,” Dean replied with a smirk.

“She took you back?” Sam asked in shock.

“What can I say,” Dean said with a cocky grin and shrug. “Make up sex is addicting and only I can provide the right touch.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sam grumbled, grimacing at the thought.

“So when are you going to make a move of political might?” Dean joked, wiggling his eyebrows again.

“None of your business,” Sam snapped. “And if anything does happen, you will not be the first one to know.”

“Well, don’t get all snappy, Mr. Advancing in Washington by dating the VP,” Dean joked. “What you gonna do, advance policy with her help? Basically take over Washington by having the VP under your thumb?”

“You know it,” Sam joked back, starting to laugh. “Start a new dynasty like the Campbells had.”

* * *

A lip behind a mask began to curl up as he listened to the audio. This certainly would become useful later on down the road.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sam stared at her broken body in his arms, pushing back the tears as he laid her down and stood to face Speaker Crowley.  
_

_“What do you want,” Sam asked, his voice calm. Too calm._

_“Everything,” Crowley hissed, a triumphant look in his eyes. “And it looks like I’m finally going to get it.”_

_Crowley tossed the gun onto the ground in front of Sam, it skittering a few feet to come to a rest next to Rebekah’s limp body._

_“It’s your choice,” Crowley said smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Join your dear wife, or I’ll do it for you.”_

As Sam was about to reply, he finally broke free of the dream’s spell and shot upright, panting heavily. He caught his breath, shaking from the adrenaline and stared around his bedroom, glad to see that he wasn’t on the roof. His eyes were just beginning to adjust as he finally felt his heart rate begin to slow to a less heart attack level and he could finally feel the bed quaking under him.

* * *

“I want you to train me,” Sam said, crossing his arms and squaring up with the agent. “I need to be able to defend myself.”

“Sir, that’s what I’m here for,” Jimmy said, a brief look of confusion and worry appearing and then vanishing yet again. “You don’t need to be trained, Mr. President.”

They were standing in the center of the White House’s gym room.

“Jimmy, spar with me,” Sam ordered, cracking his knuckles and stretching his arm across his chest to limber up.

“Mr. President,” Jimmy protested, taking a step back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Sam promised, the certainty setting in.

Jimmy seemed to hesitate and then pulled off his suit jacket. “Weapons?” he asked in defeat, tossing the jacket onto a chair. .

“No, just hand to hand,” Sam said, stepping onto the mat.  “You ready for me?”

Jimmy chuckled, undoing his tie and tossing it to the jacket as well. “I should be asking you that question, sir.”

Jimmy still seemed nervous, but shed his shoes to step onto the mat. Without warning, Jimmy took a step towards Sam and whipped his ankle out, hooking Sam’s ankle and pulling him down. As if by instinct, Sam lashed out with his own foot and kicked Jimmy down as well so they both were groaning on the mat. Jimmy sat up once he caught his breath and stared at Sam in surprise. Sam climbed to his feet and held out his hand to help Jimmy up, a plan forming. When Jimmy grasped his hand and stood up, Sam used his momentum to fling Jimmy back over his shoulder, slamming the bodyguard to the ground in a modified judo flip.

“Mr. President, where’d you learn to fight like that,” Jimmy breathed, panting as he got up. “I don’t think I need to train you at all.”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, frowning as he helped Jimmy back up. 

“Mr. President, the Vice President is here to see you,” Miss Brannigan said over the intercom.

The two tangled up men stared up from the mat at where the Vice President had entered. Sam’s view gave him only an upside down view of a pair of heels.

“What the hell are you doing, Jimmy?” Bekah asked in shock, kneeling in front of the pair of men.

“He insisted, ma'am,” Jimmy said, releasing Sam and climbing to his feet to stand at attention. “He ordered me to.”

When Jimmy released him, Sam slipped down to the mat with an ‘oof’ and just laid there, feeling exhausted and yet exhilarated. Bekah stared at him, feeling quite conflicted about seeing him in such a prone position.

She partially bent over, extending her hand to him with a soft smile. Sam gently cocked his head, wondering why she was acting like this and took her hand.

“Looks like you had quite the workout,” Bekah commented, walking over to a bench and tossing him a towel. “Better not let the screaming masses see you all sweaty like that.”

Sam was luckily able to hide his blush behind the towel and cleaned all the sweat off. Unluckily, he spotted Jimmy’s smirk and scowled at the Secret Service agent. The agent shrugged and continued drying himself off.

“So, want to escape the ivory tower and get some lunch?” Rebekah asked, crossing her arms. “I’m craving some real junk food. Eileen is such a good chef, but it feels like rabbit food.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with rabbit food,” Sam jumped in defensively. “You sound like my brother.”

“I bet I can prove you wrong,” she bet, starting to laugh. “Billy’s Grill would change even the most pretentious of veggie lovers.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Miss Vice President,” he replied, starting to smirk. “You’ll find that I’m a very difficult man to persuade.”

“I think I’m up to the challenge,” Rebekah laughed, stepping closer.

“Get a room, you two,” Jimmy whined, making the two of them flush and step away from each other awkwardly.

“I need to go grab a shower and then we can go,” Sam explained, starting to pack up his things. “Mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Not at all,” she agreed, holding up her phone. “I’ve got a full charge on this bad boy.”

Sam grinned and headed for the door. Jimmy and Rebekah followed him, standing fairly far apart as he led the way up into the main living areas. Rebekah surreptitiously watched Sam go up the stairs in front of her, eyes drifting to his rather pert ass. He headed into his room and shut the door, leaving her the only one in hall. With a huff, she looked around for a chair to wait in, but her looking was interrupted by an unknown number calling her phone. Sighing irritably, Bekah picked it up and spoke.

“Hello?”

“Vice President Grimes?” a garbled voice asked, the familiar voice modulation making her scowl immediately.

“You again,” she spat, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. “I told you before, I’m not going to turn my back on President Winchester.”

“I’d start watching your back,” the voice told her, proceeding without note of her words. “I have eyes everywhere. You think you can go out without a care in the world? Guess again. Watch your back, Grimes. This war isn’t over. You will concede to our demands.”

The person on the phone hung up and she pulled the phone away, staring at the call end screen. Sam chose that moment to open his door, walking out and rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Ready to go?” he asked, tossing the towel back behind him.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, shoving her phone in her pocket. “Is Jimmy ready?”

“He’s pulling the Beast around now, I think,” Sam explained, adjusting his belt.

She bit her lip and began playing with the zipper on her purse. Bekah didn’t see Sam look up at her and a look of concern appear.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, making her head shoot up to make eye contact. “Did I miss something?”

“No, no,” she stammered, trying to laugh it off. “Nothing, just ready to get going.”

* * *

“You weren’t lying when you said that restaurant was really good,” Sam said with a laugh, holding the door open for Bekah to exit through.

“And I’m glad you enjoyed your tofu burger,” she replied with a laugh, holding the door open for Jimmy when he followed them out. “I didn’t think they even carried those here.”

The Secret Service agent continued to scan the area as they talked, lips set in a hard line as he began to get a very bad vibe. There were way too many people out and about and most people were milling around in small groups. A man in a long black trenchcoat was advancing towards the grill and also was watching the area. Jimmy’s eyes narrowed, then widened in shock when the man reached into his jacket and-

“Mr. President!” Jimmy shouted, diving forward and shoving both Rebekah and Sam to the ground as a crack ripped through the air.

The glass door behind them shattered and glass rained down on them as the other door shattered. Rebekah squeezed her eyes shut and covered her head, trying to catch her breath from the fall. Her knees were already aching as Jimmy got off of them quickly and shoved them behind a planter. Two more shots rang out, narrowly missing them and striking the windows again. The surrounding crowds of people broke into screams as the man in the long coat advanced towards where the President and VP were huddled. He was unphased by the rush of people escaping, a mission in his eyes.

“Castiel to Gabriel,” Jimmy shouted into his walkie-talkie and drawing his gun. “We have an active shooter, repeat, an active shooter! Billy’s Grill, I need agents here, now!”

Two more shots echoed Jimmy’s words and Rebekah curled down further behind the planter. Sam wrapped his arms around her, pulling Bekah in close even as his ears were ringing. Jimmy drew his own gun and sat up straight, aiming and trying to shoot at the shooter. The two shots narrowly missed and Jimmy dove back down as the shooter retaliated.

“What do we do?” Sam hissed, trying to hide closer to the ground.

“Stay down and don’t try to be heroic,” Jimmy replied, jumping back up and taking shots at the shooter again.

He didn’t miss this time and managed to hit the man’s arm. The shooter took careful aim and Rebekah looked up just in time to see Jimmy drop to the ground, clutching his arm and cursing.

“Stay down,” Sam hissed, grabbing the gun out of Jimmy’s hand.

“Mr. President, dont-” Jimmy shouted, but Sam was already on his feet.

The shooter had a look of shock and surprise and Sam took the chance, closing one eye and aiming, shooting directly at the gunman’s chest twice. Only one shot made impact and it was a bullseye, dead in the center of his chest. The shooter stared down at the the hole and then back up at the President.

“Long live the king,” the man said, a thick accent clouding his words before he toppled to the floor.

Sam stared in shock at the body and then down at his own hand. He had never shot a gun in his life. What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Sam nearly kicked down the door to the local hospital and dragged Rebekah through it with him. Immediately following the death of the shooter, Jimmy had been bundled into an ambulance and rushed to the same hospital Sam had been taken to when he had been drugged. The Secret Service hadn’t allowed Sam and Bekah to go initially because they had their own line of interrogation to go through before they were cleared to head about their business. Sam also had a couple of phone calls to make before they could make their way to the hospital. This put them well after visiting hours, but when the staff realized who they were dealing with, they were more than happy to let him in to see his friend. But only one person. So Sam was elected to go inside.

“I’ll go in and see him as fast as possible,” Sam promised, kissing her quickly on the lips.

“Okay, take as much time as you need,” Bekah said, smiling widely and gently touching her lips. “He’s a friend, no need to rush on my behalf.”

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” he said, grinning and heading for Jimmy’s hospital room.

He gently opened the door, taking great care to keep the door silent. For all he knew, Jimmy was asleep at this time. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of his friend in a sling and attempting to work a straw into his mouth with his good arm.

“Need some help?” Sam offered, making Jimmy’s head whip up.

“Well, I should be asking you if you need any,” Jimmy teased, holding out the cup to him. “But I’d appreciate some help.”

Sam dutifully helped out, holding the cup with one hand and positioning the straw with the other. Jimmy took several long and grateful sips of the drink before reclining back on the hospital bed.

“I know you said to not be stupid,” Sam said, going to apologize, but Jimmy cut him off.

“Sam, you were stupid for the right reasons,” Jimmy said, smiling tiredly. “You very well might have saved my life today. So, I thank you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple of moments before Sam decided to speak again.

“When are you going to be released?” Sam asked, watching Jimmy’s entire face.

“The doc said that since the bullet didn’t pierce anything dangerous, I would be allowed to leave tonight and spend more time with you,” the agent said, the smile growing. “In fact, they said I could leave as soon as you finished up visiting me.”

“In that case, see ya, buddy,” Sam chuckled. “Bekah and I will be waiting outside in the hall.”

“Alright, I’ll let the nurses know,” Jimmy promised, waving goodbye. “See you soon!”

Sam closed the door behind him and gave Rebekah a small smile. She smiled back, walked over, and pulled him into a tight hug. The ambient noise of the hospital faded away as she focused on breathing and listening to Sam’s heartbeat. It was surprisingly soothing.

“I’m sorry that today didn’t go the way you hoped for,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head gently. “Thank god Jimmy wasn’t hurt anymore than a simple gunshot wound.”

“But how did they know where we were going?” Rebekah asked, frowning and pulling back. “Only the SS knew what was going on.”

“Look, I have the best people looking into this matter,” Sam assured her. “Namely, Dean and CJ. They told me that they are going to be personally overseeing the investigation and that they aren’t going to leave any stone unturned. And they are going to be looking into our leaker too.”

Rebekah was about to go on when Sam’s phone rang. It was the most basic ringtone and he pulled out the device, frowning at the screen.

“I’m sorry, no idea who this is,” he explained, putting the phone back into his pocket. “Anyways, as I was saying-”

The phone rang again and he pulled it out, looking more irritated this time. It was the same caller and he reluctantly let go of her to answer the call.

“Mr. President?” a garbled voice said before he could greet them himself.

“Um, who is this?” Sam asked, giving Rebekah a confused look.

“Not important,” the voice replied. “You think you can try to find out where I am? How I know what I know?”

“I know I can,” Sam shot back, the venom in his voice making Rebekah’s eyes widen. “And when I find you, you are going away for a very long time.”

He started to wander away from her, seeking a little more privacy in this call.

“You’re going to have to find me first,” the voice laughed back, sounding almost demonic. “And I suppose that will be hard to do with the investigators six feet under. Or should I say, what’s left of them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sam asked, starting to sound scared.

“Tic tok, tic tok,” the voice mocked. “With every second, they creep closer to their deaths. I’d move quickly. That bomb has been in their home for quite a long time.”

Click.

Sam gaped at his phone and then looked around carefully, Rebekah was speaking with Jimmy, who had arrived in normal civilian clothes. He pulled out his phone and called Dean. Sam was greeted with Dean’s answering machine.

“Hey, bro, you need to get out of the house, right now,” Sam said, his voice starting to rise slightly in pitch. “You need to get out, don’t even grab anything except CJ. You are in serious danger. Call me as soon as you get out.”

He repeated the message in a text and hurried over to where Rebekah and Jimmy were. They both looked at him, confused, but ready to listen.

“We need to go, now,” Sam announced, making Jimmy stiffen. “Jimmy, we need to get the Beast up and running now. We need to go to CJ and Dean’s house.”

“But Mr. President!” Jimmy protested. “It’s almost midnight!”

Sam took off at a light jog down the hall

“Can’t it wait until the morning?” Rebekah pleaded, trying to keep up. “I mean, CJ and Dean are probably already asleep.”

“No!” Sam shouted, stopping dead and turning to face them. “We need to get there, now!”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Rebekah asked, looking really concerned now.

“Someone called me, who was using a voice modulator,” he explained. “They said that something was going to happen at their house and they were going to die.”

“Oh my god…” Jimmy said, aghast. “Have you called them?”

“I called and texted, they didn’t pick up,” Sam explained. “If something is going to happen, we need to get there now.”

“Agreed,” Jimmy said, grabbing his phone with his good arm. “I’ll call in for other agents to tail us.”

“Thanks, Jimmy, you’re a lifesaver,” Sam said gratefully, starting to walk again. “I just hope we’re not too late…”

* * *

Only ten anxious minutes later, they were seated in the back of the Beast as their driver, Emanuel, drove like a speed demon towards the Winchester-Krake residence. Sam tried once more to reach his brother, but there was no answer.

“Sam, you need to relax,” Rebekah said softly, taking his hand. “I’m sure they are going to be fine. I mean, what has this voice done so far?”

“Who knows?” Sam asked bitterly. “For all we know, they were behind Judge Shurley’s murder and Garth’s assassination. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Even if that is true, you need to calm down because worrying isn’t going to make our job any easier if we need to get them out of there,” Jimmy added, jumping into the conversation. “Look, we’re turning onto their street now. See, nothing’s wrong so far.”

Sam nodded and gripped Rebekah’s hand more tightly as they rounded the corner. The Beast slowly rolled to a halt across the street from the home and Sam took a deep breath of relief when he saw that it was still in one piece. However,

“Alright, let’s go,” Jimmy said, reaching for the door. “We don’t have much time to get them out.”

“Wait,” Sam said, staring at his phone in confusion. “Oh my-”

Sam stared with a slack jaw as a tremendous shockwave ripped through the air and the house, fire exploding from every window. The roof itself partially blew off, debris raining down in the front garden and across their neighbor’s homes. The Beast was hit almost instantly with the shockwave and Rebekah grabbed onto Sam, clutching him and hiding her face in his chest as she sobbed. Sam set his phone down on the seat and held her tightly as he stared out the windows. Jimmy’s jaw dropped as well and he grabbed his phone, immediately dialing 911 with his good hand.

“911? I need to report an emergency,” Jimmy said, his words fading into the background as Sam watched the home burn with Dean and CJ inside.

His phone lay abandoned on the seat next to him, the screen lit up with a single text message from an unknown number:

_Time’s up :)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Secretary and the Director are laid to rest and a skeleton comes out of the closet at the worst time possible.

The Washington Tribune

Tragedy Strikes Again

By Heather Jenkins

Our nation was rocked again last night by the death of Secretary Winchester and Director Krake. Their home in the suburbs of Washington D.C. was the site of a bomb explosion, linked to the boiler, sources tell us. The blast killed both of them as President Winchester was arriving at the home himself. The FBI is investigating this as an act of domestic terrorism and believe that this act may be related to the murders of Vice President Fitzgerald and Chief Justice Shurley. 

Press Secretary Frye spoke to reporters this morning and released the following statement:

_ “President Winchester is going through a very difficult time right now and asks that the public and government members respect that he is still in a time of mourning. He will not be working on legislation during this time and will return to his duties following the funeral.” _

* * *

 

“Friends, family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the lives of two dear friends,” the priest said, his voice solemn as he gestured to the two closed coffins. “Although their lives ended in bloodshed, now they walk in the Valley of the Lord together in death as they were in life. All who knew them were touched by their kindness, capacity to love, and sense of honor.”

The crowds that had turned out to the funeral couldn’t be admitted to Arlington because there were so many of them. As Sam had walked with the other coffin bearers, the sea of people seemed to never end as they made their way towards the National Cemetery. Luckily, the cemetery staff was more than happy to ensure that only the family and close friends were allowed to go to the burial itself. It was a surprisingly quiet affair. All of the most important people in Washington were there: him, Rebekah, Mary, Secretary Talbot, Agent Chase, Secretary Bradbury, Speaker Crowley, Agents Castiel and Gabriel, Press Secretary Frye. And then, of course, CJ’s parents and other family. Seeing so many of them show up made Sam, for a short moment, jealous of how many of the family members were there to support her family. 

Once the priest had finished speaking, Michael Novak and a female soldier Sam didn’t know stepped forward to fold the flags. They moved slowly, taking their time to fold the flags properly. 

“Mary Winchester, we present to you the flag of Dean Winchester, Secretary of Defense and General of the Army of these United States,” Michael said, dipping his head as he handed her the flag. “We honor his service to this great nation and your loss.”

Mary took it hesitantly and bit her lip, holding back tears. The unknown female soldier said the same thing to CJ’s parents, of course with a few changes as befitted her rank and office. Further up the green, one of the officers shouted for the soldiers to move forward and his detachment of nineteen soldiers marched into position. Rifles were clutched tight as they stiffly walked forward and halted upon command. 

“Hut!” the officer shouted, his whole body shaking with the force. “Present, arms!”

The soldiers took aim at the sky over the cemetery in unison with each other.  

“One,” the officer called. “Two. Fire!”

The soldiers all fired, making many of the attendees jump a little. Puffs of smoke rose from the rifle noses and attentions quickly returned to the graves. The cemetery staff had begun the process of sliding the coffins into the ground. They were placed in fairly easily. 

“Please, if you wish to cast down flowers, now would be the time to do so,” the priest announced, stepping back. 

No one stepped forward at first, but then, one of CJ’s little cousins stepped forward. She was holding a single white rose and with the exuberance that only four year olds can have, she tossed it into the grave. It landed on top of the main bouquet of red roses that adorned Dean’s coffin. The crowd shifted and throbbed as each person stepped forward to deposit flowers into the graves. Soon enough, it was time for the Winchesters to step forward. 

Sam helped Mary walk forward, as she wouldn’t let go of him even when she tossed the bouquet. It was a direct hit on Dean’s coffin, joining the other arrangements that had landed there. Sam then threw down his own single flower. A white daffodil. 

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the priest droned as the grave digging staff picked up their shovels. 

Mary sobbed in Sam’s shoulder when the first scoop of dirt landed. He swallowed heavily and closed his eyes, wincing at the next thud. The mild crying and sobbing from the other guests faded away as the thudding continued. 

* * *

 

The funeral finally ended and the guests began to disperse. Sam, Mary, and Rebekah stayed back, thanking the people who came as they left. Most of them were uneventful, but near the end, Vixen approached them. 

“Vixen, I thought you were in Dublin,” Sam said, surprised as he shook her hand.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said sadly, patting his hand and speaking to Mary next. “Mrs. Winchester, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Miss Chase,” Mary replied, smiling sadly. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

Vixen moved on to Rebekah next, pulling her into a surprisingly tight hug. 

“Hey, I know you probably have enough going on right now, but I really need to talk to you when you get a chance,” Vixen said softly, pulling back from the hug.  

“Sure thing, when I get back to the White House, I’ll text you,” she replied softly. “I’m not sure what Sam’s going to want to do after this.”

Vixen nodded and swallowed, walking back over to where a fellow agent was waiting. When she got close, he wrapped an arm around her and guided her to a waiting SUV. Rebekah stared after them and bit her lip, feeling the tears she’d been holding back starting to form. She glanced over at the gravestones and felt the tears overflow. Rebekah started to hurry off and as she  weaved in and out of the headstones, her phone dinged. Wiping tears away, she pulled out her phone. An email had been sent to her private box. 

**To:[rlgrimes@femail.com](mailto:rlgrimes@femail.com)**

**From: Unknown**

**Subject: He’s Not What You Think**

**1 Attachment: Audio File - P.W. Discusses V.P.G.**

She stared at it, wondering if she should even listen to it. This had to be from the asshole who was doing nothing but screwing up everyone’s lives. 

_ But what if this is important,  _ the little voice in the back of her head whispered. 

Rebekah opened the audio file. What sounded like Sam’s voice came out of the speakers, increasing in volume as she messed with the button on the side of her phone. 

_ “None of your business,” Sam muttered. _

_ “So, what’d you get up to with the Veep yesterday?” Dean asked.  _

_ “Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sam said with a groan. “We had to cancel our date because of you and your many love affairs.” _

_ “Well, while you had a very vanilla night alone, I was a sinful sorbet,” Dean said, relishing each word.  _

_ “Who the hell would let you be a sinful sorbet with them,” Sam said in disgust.  _

_ “My fiance,” Dean replied, the smirk audible. _

_ “She took you back?” Sam asked in shock.  _

_ “What can I say,” Dean said with a cocky grin and shrug. “Make up sex is addicting and only I can provide the right touch.” _

_ “You’re disgusting,” Sam grumbled, grimacing at the thought. _

_ “So when are you going to make a move of political might?” Dean joked _

_ “None of your business,” Sam snapped. “And if anything does happen, you will **not** be the first one to know.” _

_ “Well, don’t get all snappy, Mr. Advancing in Washington by dating the VP,” Dean joked. “What you gonna do, advance policy with her help? Basically take over Washington by having the VP under your thumb?” _

_ “You know it,” Sam joked back, starting to laugh. “Start a new dynasty like the Campbells had.” _

She stared at her phone in confusion. It sounded like Sam, but… Sam wouldn’t say those things, would he? This had to be some kind of trick from that asshole. But seriously; Dean’s voice was on there too, and she didn’t hear anything that would be a sign of editing. Besides, he was even mentioning things only people inside the White House would know. 

The emotions continued to swirl around in her mind and she started crying again, trying to keep her volume low and not attract attention. 

* * *

“So I was thinking we should get brunch?” Sam suggested, glancing around and frowning when he didn’t see Rebekah next to him anymore. “Uh…”

“She’s a few rows over,” his mother said softly. 

He followed her gaze and spotted Rebekah, slightly hunched over and shaking from the amount of crying. He bit his lip and glanced between his mother and the woman he loved.

“Mom, you don’t mind-” Sam asked, only for Mary to nod. “Thanks.”

He ran over to Rebekah, hair poofing in the breeze and flaring out as he came to a halt. She wouldn’t stop sobbing until he pulled her into a hug and let her bury her face in his shoulder. Jimmy ran up to them and stood about ten feet away, making sure that no one else was listening in. They stood there for a good five minutes, swaying slightly as Sam rubbed her back and whispered soothing words to her. 

“How many more friends are we going to bury,” Rebekah finally whispered, holding him tightly. “First it was Garth, then it was Chuck, and now it’s CJ and Dean. It’s not going to be very long before it’s you! Or me!”

“Rebekah, you need to calm down,” Sam said, rubbing her back and glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. “I’m going to be fine, you’re going to be fine, we’ll catch this guy before he can do anything else.”

“Mr. President, I think we should head back to the White House,” Jimmy stiffly said. “Your mother is in no state to remain here while the press moves in.”

“Alright, Jimmy, I agree,” he said, rubbing Rebekah’s back once more and stepping back. “We can keep talking when we get back to the White House, alright?”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes as they walked back over to Mary.

* * *

 

They were all bundled into the Beast and headed back to the White House. Sam and Mary went up to the Oval Office while Rebekah went to the Blue Room and texted Vixen. It only took a couple of minutes for Vixen to arrive and the two women hugged before taking seats across from each other on separate couches.

“So, you’re back stateside,” Rebekah began.

“Yep, got to admit, I love being back here,” Vixen said with a sigh, smiling widely. “Dublin is stunning, but nothing beats the Lincoln Memorial at sundown.”

“I agree,” Rebekah said, sighing happily. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I-” she began, but started to look very nauseous. “Hold up.”

With speed Rebekah didn’t expect to see, Vixen grabbed the trash can and vomited into it. Rebekah shot up and hurried over, pulling her own hair tie out and using it to pull Vixen’s back out of her face. She rubbed Vix’s back soothingly, wincing as she continued to retch into the can. After a couple more retches, she pulled back and set the can back down. Vix sank into the couch and wiped at her mouth.

“Sorry,” she apologized, looking completely winded. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Rebekah assured her. “What’s going on, are you alright?”

“Yeah, never been better,” Vix laughed, starting to smile. “Looks like my body wants me to tell you already.”

“So, what’s going on?” Rebekah asked excitedly. 

“I’m pregnant!” she exclaimed, grinning. “Almost a month in.”

“Oh my god!” Rebekah squealed, walking over and hugging her. “Does Nick know yet?”

“Yes, he knows,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. 

“He must be so excited to be a dad!” Rebekah continued. 

“Yes, even though it’s not his, he’s been nothing but supportive,” Vix sighed happily. 

“It’s not his?” Rebekah asked, her brow furrowing 

“No, it’s Dean’s,” she said, wincing a little. 

“Did he know?” Rebekah asked, lowering her voice without realizing it. 

“No, I only just found out this week,” Vix said, shrugging. “I went in for a routine check on the base and I was going to fly out and tell him when I got the news about the explosion.”

“Have you told Sam?” she asked next. 

“No, and I don’t want to,” Vix said with a laugh. “I have no idea how he’ll react.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” Rebekah assured her. “He’s really very cool when you get to know him.”

“I still don’t feel comfortable,” she said, pursing her lips a little. “What if he fires me?”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Rebekah laughed, trying to reassure her. “Do you want me to tell him for you?”

“If you’d be okay with it,” she said, flashing Rebekah a small, hopeful smile. “Nick’s taking me out to dinner tonight and I don’t want to be late.”

“Then get out of here!” Rebekah laughed, helping her up. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“For real, thank you, Rebekah,” Vix thanked her, giving her one last hug. “You’ve been an amazing friend.”

“Same to you,” she replied, pulling back, but keeping her hands on Vix’s shoulders. “Tell Nick I said hi, alright?”

“I will,” she promised and grabbed her purse, heading for the door. 

Rebekah watched her go, a small smile remaining as she watched her friend leave. Only once the door completely shut did she pull out her phone and check for any messages. There was one from Sam. 

**From: Sam - Hey, can you come see me in my office?**

**To: Sam - Sure thing. Vixen just left; I’ll be right up :)**

* * *

 

“I’m really glad you texted me,” Rebekah said, kicking the door to the Oval Office shut. “I was just on my way up to see you.”

“Thanks for getting up here so fast,” he said, smiling and standing from his desk. “My mom just went down to her room, so it’s just us.”

Rebekah walked to the center of the room and set her purse down on the right couch. 

“So, how was Vixen?” he asked, leaning on the desk. 

“Good, good, told me some big news,” she said, sitting on the arm of the right couch.

“I have some too,” he told her, starting to smile. 

“You go first,” Rebekah insisted, grinning at him. 

He nodded and paused, swallowing as he collected himself. Rebekah kept watching him, beyond curious about what he was going to say.

“Look, with everything that’s happened, it’s got me thinking,” Sam explained, sighing as he started to pat down his jacket. “About the future, about us. The way I see it, we might not have another chance.”

Rebekah started to frown, her brow furrowing as he walked a little closer to her. 

“I already spoke with my advisors,” he continued, finally finding what he was looking for. “And they said that legally, there isn’t any reason that this won’t work. And, since you’re registered to vote in California, it would work out in the next election.”

Sam sank down on one knee and she gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. With that awkward, crooked grin of his, Sam opened a ring box on his palm, revealing an diamond ring. The design around the main setting was intricate, with small patterns going around the band, all encrusted with tiny diamonds. These highlighted the simple round cut diamond in the center. Despite the level of detail, it was still a small ring and looked much more simple from afar. 

“Rebekah Grimes, Vice President of these United States, will you take me, Sam Winchester, to be your fiance?” he asked, unable to stop a laugh from escaping. 

“I…” she stammered, starting to smile. “Yes, of course I will!”

He shot up and pulled the ring from the box, slipping it onto her left ring finger easily as he tossed the box over his shoulder. It fit almost perfectly, if a little on the small side, and he pulled her in for a kiss almost as soon as it was securely on. 

“Sam?” she asked, when the kiss finally broke. “Hey, I still need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” he encouraged, still smiling. 

“Vixen just told me some amazing news,” she said, taking a seat on the couch. “She’s pregnant.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asked, looking utterly confused, but quickly smiling again. “That’s awesome! Who’s the dad? Is it Nick?”

“No,” she said, starting to speak hesitantly. “It’s Dean.”

The room was utterly silent as the news sunk in. 

“Dean,” Sam repeated. 

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “She just told me this afternoon.

“Does she want to give it up for adoption?” Sam asked curiously. 

“No, she and Nick want to keep it,” Rebekah said excitedly. “Vix was telling me that she’d name it after Dean. Isn’t that sweet?”

“That really is,” Sam said, grinning a little. “Dean Chase. Has a secret agent feel to it.”

“Man, it’s going to be nice to have some kind of happiness around here again,” she said with a sigh, not noticing the tension visible on his face. “Not to mention that Vix is over the moon about it. I can only imagine how you mom is going to be. Another Winchester running around.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, looking deep in thought. “Do you think we could sue for custody?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rebekah asked, starting to frown. “Sue for custody?”

“Yeah, could we do it,” Sam asked again. 

“I mean, legally yes, but why on earth would we do that?” she asked him, frowning deeper.

“Well, for one, he’s my dead brother’s kid,” Sam explained. “If anyone should be raising it, it should be Winchesters.”

She stared at him, looking more and more confused and slightly worried.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with an eyeroll.

“Are you crazy?” she asked in shock. “You can’t just suggest that and expect that people won’t think you’re crazy.”

“It’s a reasonable offer,” he pointed out, shrugging. “Vixen is a secret agent; having a kid would put her in danger if someone decided to use it against her. Not to mention that she’d be out of the field for at least a year to take care of the kid. Us adopting it would take that off of her.”

“We can’t take a kid away from it’s mother,” she protested, looking more and more disgusted with each passing second. “Oh my god, in what universe is that okay?”

“This one,” he replied, crossing his arms. “And it wouldn’t be taking the kid away, we would adopt it. Vixen would legally surrender the kid and we’d have full custody. It wouldn’t be her kid anymore.” 

“Sam, if you think I’d do this to her, you’re out of your mind,” she scoffed, turning her back on him. 

“Besides, we have more of a blood tie to the kid than she does,” he said, shrugging again. “Not to mention that the kid would have much better opportunity with us.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rebekah asked, starting to scowl. 

“Vixen is a military woman,” he said, trying to explain. “And if something happens, Nick is the same way. We have no idea what kind of mother she’s going to be and our name will go further than the name of Vixen Chase.”

“That’s so rude,” she exclaimed, staring at him in horror. “How can you say that about her?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he shot back.

“Sam, who’s going to take care of the kid,” Rebekah asked, scoffing and going for the logical route. “I can’t, you can’t; we both have too much shit going on. Not to mention that with the way we behave, we’d be shit parents.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sam muttered, looking away from her. 

“This is so stupid,” she said, rising from the couch and starting to walk toward the door.

“It could work, you said so yourself,” he pleaded, rising as well. 

“I’m going to give you some time to think this over, alright,” she announced, continuing to walk and grabbing her purse.

“I can’t turn my back on my brother’s legacy,” he told her, voice escalating in volume. 

“What about your own legacy,” she called, finally pausing. “This kid is Dean’s. We can’t erase that.”

“But then we’ll have a family,” he pleaded.

“I don’t want kids!” she shouted, spinning around, tears pooling in her eyes. 

The room was dead silent and Sam looked shocked that she’d shouted at him like that.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, voice dangerously low.  

“I don’t want kids,” she repeated quietly, shaking her head. “Never have. And if you think I’m going to willingly bring a child into this White House, you haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said over the past couple months.”

They were silent for a moment.

“I-” Sam said, rubbing his face with his hands. “I mean, are you going to want some along the line, or-”

“Oh my god,” she scoffed, looking more and more angry now. “That recording was right.”

“What recording,” Sam snapped, starting to glare at her now. 

“This one,” she replied, pulling out her phone and pulling up her email. 

She made eye contact as she forcefully pressed on the screen. Instantly, his own voice came blaring out of the speakers.

_ “None of your business,” Sam muttered. _

_ “So, what’d you get up to with the Veep yesterday?” Dean asked.  _

_ “Get your mind out of the gutter,” Sam said with a groan. “We had to cancel our date because of you and your many love affairs.” _

_ “Well, while you had a very vanilla night alone, I was a sinful sorbet,” Dean said, relishing each word.  _

_ “Who the hell would let you be a sinful sorbet with them,” Sam said in disgust.  _

_ “My fiance,” Dean replied, the smirk audible. _

_ “She took you back?” Sam asked in shock.  _

_ “What can I say,” Dean said with a cocky grin and shrug. “Make up sex is addicting and only I can provide the right touch.” _

_ “You’re disgusting,” Sam grumbled, grimacing at the thought. _

_ “So when are you going to make a move of political might?” Dean joked _

_ “None of your business,” Sam snapped. “And if anything does happen, you will not be the first one to know.” _

_ “Well, don’t get all snappy, Mr. Advancing in Washington by dating the VP,” Dean joked. “What you gonna do, advance policy with her help? Basically take over Washington by having the VP under your thumb?” _

_ “You know it,” Sam joked back, starting to laugh. “Start a new dynasty like the Campbells had.” _

The recording ended and they stayed quiet until Sam was the first to speak.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Sam asked, his voice dangerously dark.

“Someone sent it to me a couple of hours ago at the funeral,” she said swallowing and clearly trying to hold it together. “An anonymous email address.”

“Are you taking an anonymous asshole’s word over mine?” he nearly screeched, gesturing at the walls. 

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” she shouted, tears escaping her. “Is this what you wanted, a fucking broodmare to provide an heir to the great Winchester line? Because that’s what I just heard!"

“Rebekah, you know I didn’t-” he protested, rapidly trying to backpedal. 

“Tell me if you said that or you didn’t!” she ordered, waving the phone at him.

He stared at her, sighing as he turned his attention to anything but her. She let out a slightly strangled laugh and put he hand up to her, muffling a sob that followed it. He bit his lip, the sound of her sob hurting him more than the previous words ever did. 

Rebekah wiped at her eyes and swallowed, composing herself as best she could. 

“I didn’t want to believe it, you know,” she said, smiling sadly and pursing her lips. “When whoever it was sent it to me, I thought they were BS-ing me. That this was just another trick to try and break down the government.”

She stared off into nothing, shaking her head before focusing back on him. 

“But your silence,” she said, stopping as her voice barely cracked. “Tells me everything I needed to know.”

“Rebekah, wait,” Sam protested, starting to follow her. 

She ignored him and aggressively threw open the Oval Office door. By the time he got close to the door, Rebekah had already slammed it shut. He stopped himself from going after her and clenched his fists, feeling the rage boil over. With an anger filled shout, he seized a lamp from next to the door and threw it against the wall. 

* * *

 

Rebekah only barely glanced back as she stormed down the hall. She’d been hoping that Sam would follow her, apologizing and promising to be better, but it seemed like that only happened in movies. In her hurry, she slipped, her ankle going out from under her and making her grab onto a passing side table. Only once she was stable on her feet, she leaned on the hall wall.

“Goddammit,” she screamed, slamming her fist on the wall. “Dammit…”

She sobbed, leaning fully on it and resting her head on the cool wall as tears poured down her face. She stood there, the halls that becoming more and more her home feeling more lonely than she had in years. Her misery was interrupted, however, by her cellphone ringing. With a sniff, she wiped the tears from her eyes and snot from her nose before picking up and starting to walk back down the hall in her earlier path. 

“Yes, this is Vice President Grimes speaking,” she said, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her occasional sniffle. 

“Hello,” the anonymous caller with the hidden voice greeted, almost grinning.

“You,” Rebekah spat, glancing around and walking faster. “How did you get this number?”

“I have my ways,” the voice said, the garbled tone sending shivers down her spine. 

“What do you want?” she asked, going into one of the side rooms for some privacy. 

“Madame Vice President, I think we need to have a face to face talk,” the voice told her, the tone suddenly becoming more clear as Bekah turned around, coming face to face with the mastermind of the past months.

The phone slipped from her hand as her jaw dropped in shock and she tried to push him away, but then his hand came up and everything went black.


	9. Chapter 9

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Sam looked up from his newspaper and stared at the desk phone, brow furrowing at why an unknown number was calling him.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

The phone fell silent. Sam stared at it for a moment longer and returned to his reading. A moment later, it happened again.

Ring ring.

Sam’s head shot up and he read, in surprise, that it was an unknown number again.

Ring ring.

“Hello?” Sam asked, finally picking up the unknown number.

“President Winchester,” a robotic voice said through the phone.

“You,” Sam growled, his fist clinging to the phone more tightly. “What do you want?”

“Meet me on the roof in two minutes or you can kiss the blushing bride-to-be goodbye,” a jarbled voice ordered, hanging up even as Sam was fuming.

Sam slammed the phone down in it’s cradle and took off at a run to the main staircase, not wanting to miss the time line. He bolted up the steps to the top floor, glad for his years of healthy habits, and threw open the door marked ‘Roof Access’ in red. He hurried as fast as he dared through the hall to the ladder, wanting to keep the element of surprise on his side.

Sam emerged onto the roof, the trapdoor above the ladder slamming open as his momentum pushed it harder than he intended. He hauled himself up onto the roof, and looked around frantically, looking for any sign of Rebekah or Crowley.

He stepped around an air conditioning unit and finally spotted them. The Speaker of the House was holding Rebekah in a necklock with a pistol pressed against Rebekah’s temple.

“Don’t you move,” Crowley ordered, cocking the gun. “I don’t think I need to warn you that I’ll do it.”

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Sam stated, beginning to list the crimes. “All the scandals; Justice Shurley, Secretary Bradbury, Garth, Dean, CJ; you did that, didn’t you?”

“Aw, I’m so touched you feel that way about me,” Crowley mocked with an eyeroll. “I’m not that stupid to do all that work myself. You must have figured out by now that I have eyes and hands everywhere.”

“But why not do it yourself?” Sam asked, trying to keep him talking as he waited for the Secret Service to arrive.

“I’m not a fan of putting the blame on myself,” Crowley said with a nonchalant shrug. “Too many ways that can go sideways. No, no, a good contingency plan is how I like to work. Let the cronies take the fall as I walk away scot free.”

“Let her go,” Sam ordered, staring down the Speaker. “Let her go and I’ll let you walk.”

“Sam, don’t, you don’t understand what he wants, he-” Bekah pleaded, her words being cut off when Crowley pressed a gloved hand over her mouth.

“I just hate it when caged birds try to sing, don’t you, Mr. President?” Crowley chuckled, locking eyes with Sam. “But, you know, I’m feeling generous and willing to take you up on that offer, so here.”

He pulled his hand away and shoved Bekah away from both him and the loaded weapon. She stumbled and Sam instinctively stepped forward to try and catch her, forgetting Crowley’s warning for a split second.

That was all it took.

Faster than Sam would have thought possible, Crowley’s aim was brought back up and the crack of two shots echoed around the rooftop. Bekah cried out, the force of the impact pushing her forward into Sam’s arms, already shaking from shock.

“Looks like you brought nothing to a gunfight,” Crowley sneered, blowing away the remaining gun smoke. “I told you not to move.”

At first, Sam didn’t even recognize what Crowley had said, he was stunned at what was happening. The blood soaked through everything and despite his frantic efforts to stop the bleeding, all he could do was watch the light fade from her eyes and feel her body go limp. Sam stared at her broken body in his arms, pushing back the tears as he laid her down gently on the cement and stood to face Speaker Crowley.

“What do you want,” Sam asked, his voice calm. Too calm.

“Everything,” Crowley hissed, a triumphant look in his eyes. “And it looks like I’m finally going to get it.”

Crowley tossed the gun onto the ground in front of Sam, it skittering a few feet to come to a rest next to Rebekah’s limp body.

“It’s your choice,” Crowley said smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Join your dear finace, or I’ll do it for you.”

“This can’t be happening,” Sam muttered, starting to laugh from the shock of the situation. “Bekah’s not dead, you’re not telling me to kill myself-”

“Oh, I’m afraid that it’s pretty damn real in here,” Crowley chuckled. “At least, as real as it’s going to get.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, confusion sinking in.

“Sam, I don’t know if you’ve pieced it together yet, but this. This world. It’s not real,” Crowley said with an apathetic shrug. “You’re not President Samuel Winchester.”

“You’re crazy,” Sam laughed, the shock really starting to sink in now.

“Oh, you know I’m not,” Crowley said with a snigger. “You’ve known it for months now.”

Sam shook his head, his gaze dropping to Bekah’s body that remained still in a growing pool of blood.

“You’re not President Sam Winchester. You’re just a selfish, arrogant, no good little boy still clinging to the hope of living out the apple pie life that you never got with Jessica,” Crowley spat.

Sam’s head shot up, staring Crowley down. “You bastard-”

“I’m not done yet,” Crowley cut him off. “You’re wasting away in the real world as a monster sucks you dry just so that you can get a few moments of peace in your own head.Too afraid that good old Lucifer’s going to pop up again and scramble your noggin? Too afraid you won’t be able to control your own life?”

“Stop it,” Sam protested through gritted teeth, the memories starting to flood back in. “What are you- This isn’t real! You’re lying!”

“This isn’t real, Sam. You are too damn afraid and selfish to consider that your brother is fighting to save you out there and you are wasting time on a suicidal fantasy that you walked willingly into!” Crowley yelled, spit flying as he enunciated each word.

“You’re lying!” Sam yelled back, trying to deny it even as he knew that he was telling the truth.

“No, I’m not,” Crowley said, with a sense of finality to his words. “And you know that I’m not.”

Crowley began walking towards Sam, pausing only to pick up the pistol and step over the body. He pulled Sam’s hand up from where it had been resting and placed the gun in his bloodstained hands. Crowley took several steps back from the scene, watching Sam grapple with the decision that rested literally in his hands.

“Do that bloody horrible noble thing that you like to do, hunter,” Crowley said, nearly spitting the last word.

Sam set his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and slowly lifted the gun up.

Pop. Thud.

With a heavy sigh, the pitch silence was broken by the click of dress shoes as the last person who still breathed proceeded to tug the weapon from a now loose grasp. Crowley smirked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the end of the still smoking gun. The stray droplets of blood stained the white cloth crimson and Crowley slipped it into an interior pocket. He turned, walking back to the exit door and stepping over the sprawled long legs of the President. Crowley paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at where their bodies lay. A smirk began to grow as he said a single phrase, gloating in his triumph.

“Hail to the chief.”


	10. Epilogue

Sam awoke with a gasp, his throat dry and parched, his wrists red and raw as the sound of a terrific fight ensued around him. He blearily looked around, not sure what he could and couldn’t see as he came out from under the djinn’s spell. With every blink and shift, the illusion of Washington D.C. swam away to reveal an old disgusting warehouse that was damp and dark. Sam began to struggle, trying to get free from the rotting ropes that bound him to the chair he was seated in. 

Everything swam in front of him as he squinted, the world starting to barely come into focus. There was Dean, getting kicked down a flight of stairs. And then the monster, his tattoos rippling to life with a flare of blue as he raised a hand to touch Dean’s barely stirring body. 

Sam broke free and stood, a half-scream bursting from his throat when his whole body ached and pausing the monster. It gave Dean just enough time to get up and grab ahold of his silver dagger, plunging it into the djinn’s heart. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, Sam stumbling and fall as well, the memories from the dream still feeling as real as his own as the adrenaline . 

“Dean?” Sam rasped, hearing footsteps running towards him. “Dean?”

“Sammy, I’m here,” Dean whispered, rolling him onto his back. “God dammit, Sammy… Why do you have to go and do this kind of shit… What were you thinking, walking in here without backup?”

“I just…” Sam winced as Dean put pressure on a small cut he hadn’t felt before. “I just wanted to see what it would show me…”

“That isn’t a good idea,” Dean muttered, chuckling a little as he ripped off a piece of Sam’s shirt to use as a bandage. “I should know, happened to me.”

“What-what did you see?” Sam asked, gasping from the sudden burst of pain.

“I saw my life exactly as I would have wanted it. But it wasn’t right,” Dean said, working quickly on the still bleeding wound. “Sam, you can’t let whatever life it was stick with you. Sure, I bet it was a pretty damn awesome place, but you can’t just go in there when you feel like it. The djinn was going to kill you. Drain you for it’s own livelihood. Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I think I got the bleeding to stop for now, but you’re going to need to take it easy once you’re stitched up.”

“Yeah, yeah-Ow, dammit!” Sam yelped, not expecting Dean to help him up by yanking on his arm. “Don’t do that! I think my shoulder’s dislocated”

“Sorry man,” Dean apologized, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll set it back in place when we get back.”

They exited the warehouse in relative silence, tromping back towards where the Impala was parked through the deep woods. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves under their feet, cicadas screaming in the pines, and crickets chirping. On any other day, Sam would be at peace with the surroundings, enjoying the walk.

“But yeah, yeah, I know it was basically suicide. But I just had to know, you know?” Sam said, working on getting to his feet with Dean’s welcome help. “I mean, my life in that world-”

“You’re kidding me right?” Dean muttered, cutting him off and shouldering most of Sam’s weight as he tried to get in the Impala. “If I hadn’t found you, you’d probably be dead right now.”

“Dean,” Sam protested, not expecting it when Dean shoved harshly on his shoulder.

The dislocated shoulder clicked into place and Sam howled in pain, making Dean wince at the noise. Once Sam was suitably somewhat relaxed, dean gently prodded the shoulder, making Sam shoot him a glare and slap his hand away.

“Jeez, princess,” Dean muttered, slamming the door as Sam nursed the wound. “You’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt just the same,” Sam hissed through gritted teeth as Dean slipped into his seat.

“Dumbledore had it right though. It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,” Dean pointed out, throwing the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. 

 


End file.
